


Gunslinger Girl Side Story: A Triumph of the Heart Volume 2

by taerkitty



Series: A Triumph of the Heart [2]
Category: Gunslinger Girl
Genre: Action, Angst, Character Death, Cyborgs, Drama, Gen, Italy, Original Character(s), Science Fiction, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 25,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taerkitty/pseuds/taerkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Volume 2 consists of the short stories Dina, Training, and First Mission. Together, they show how Paolo Di Tomaso and Dina come to bond as a fratello.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dina Chapter 1: Signing Up

**_Dina_  Chapter 1: Signing Up**

"It doesn't seem right, Captain." Paolo Di Tomaso looked out the window. The view looked serene, pastoral. At the base of a far hill was a small walled enclosure, and inside a plain cinder-block house, unpainted. Two girls dashed inside. Even from the distance, Paolo could see the excitement in their strides.

Cane in one hand, mug in the other, Captain Raballo stood beside his former subordinate. "I know. You'd think they should be playing with dolls, or ... whatever it is little girls their age do. It's up to their handler, you know. Hilshire buys Triela bears, and Jose takes Henrietta into the city on shopping trips."

Paolo nodded. Henrietta, identifiable by her brown hair in a bob-cut, emerged from the house. She cradled her rifle, barrel pointed downward. Her handler knelt down on one knee and talked with her. Though he couldn't hear the words, Jose's precise gestures were clearly meant to coach her, instruct her.

The other girl, a blonde in a similar bob-cut, walked out of the training house. Her rifle she held in both arms, barrel pointed upward. She approached her handler, blonde like her, wearing a trench coat and gloves. He too gave correction, but his hands, his distance, and the stiffening of his spine showed his displeasure at her performance. He concluded his lecture with his right arm hauled back, palm open and tensed.

"And Jean is ... like that." Raballo put down his coffee cup and wrapped his arm around Paolo's shoulder. "It bothered me a great deal when I first joined, too. You learn to look away, to focus on your own girl." As he spoke, he guided Paolo away from the window.

"Claes." Paolo nodded, remembering the girl with long, black hair and wide, curious eyes. Their meeting was his first introduction to the Social Welfare Agency and their young cyborgs. She seemed so ordinary, so plain, yet the smell of cordite hung heavy around her. Claes politely bowed as she introduced herself, then fell in step behind Paolo and Raballo as they walked the monastery-like grounds and talked further about the Agency and its work.

Only later did Paolo realize he and the Captain had talked for over an hour with Claes following behind them, never saying a word.

"Yes. She ... Well, she's what made me think of you, actually. When we started, as I said, this whole arrangement bothered me greatly. Jean asked me on board as an instructor, but gave me only her as a student." He let go of Paolo once they were free of the window's view and limped over to the closet. "He said that the other girls could use better form as well, but their handlers never found time for me to teach them. Even he couldn't find time for Rico to spend some time with me."

Paolo put on his grey sport coat while Raballo selected a jacket from the closet. They all seemed identical - long, tan, like a trench coat, but without any visible pockets or belt. They were large, baggy, and formless. In the time since his injury, the Captain let his waist grow, Paolo noted. The jacket made it less noticeable, but didn't make it go away.

As he opened the door to his quarters, Raballo continued speaking into the air. "So, I taught Claes. At first, it didn't go very well. She was clumsy and awkward, and her aim was terrible."

Paolo hurried out, then stood to one side while Raballo closed the door. He didn't lock it.

"I couldn't understand how someone so young could move like an old woman." Raballo lightly kicked his cane with his bad leg. "Then I realized, it was like me after the thing with the rifle ruined my knee. Just like I had to learn to stand, to walk, to do everything again, Claes was in a new body, and she needed to learn how to use it. We started spending less time on the range and more time learning about life."

"Did she fight it like I did?" Paolo smiled. "Did you have to order her to read, or to write essays about the Renaissance?"

"With these girls, any request from any of us is an order. So, I did, even though I didn't mean to. I've learned to be very ..." Raballo waved his hand abstractly. "Very careful in how I talk to them. In fact, I keep it very business-only, at least while we're on-site. There's something about this place."

They walked in silence through the dormitory building, across to the administrative building, out the forecourt and to the gatehouse.

"Pietro. Drew guard duty, hm?" The Captain gave the man in the rumpled suit with a short beard a wave.

"One of the many services provided by Section One." Pietro gave a lazy wave back, cigarette in hand.

"This is Paolo Di Tomaso. He'll be working with us in Section Two."

At this, Pietro lowered his feet from the desk and rose from his seat. "Ah, glad to meet you."

Paolo stepped forward and grasped the outstretched hand. "Glad to meet you as well. I think Lelio was here when I came in."

Pietro smiled. "Lucky him." He turned to Captain Raballo. "So, you came for the package?"

Raballo nodded. "It's his, actually." He indicated Paolo. "Do you want him to sign for it?"

"It's in your name, but I really don't care. So long as there's a scribble where it needs to be." He laid the logbook on the desk.

Formalities done, Paolo and Raballo walked back through the administrative building. Once outside, they turned instead toward a new direction. Paolo tried to remember the orientation Priscilla gave him yesterday.

Raballo jarred him from his attempt. "You should open it, you know."

"Oh, all right. I thought we were going back to the dormitory. I was going to open it when we got there."

"No, the dorms are that way. We're headed to the medical building. And, this isn't a gift. Not for you, anyway."

Puzzled, Paolo unwrapped and unboxed it. Inside was a pristine white cardboard sleeve with the triple circles-and-arrows logo of Fabbrica D' Armi Pietro Beretta S.p.A. He slid the inner box free and opened it.

Inside was his 90-Two. And a note.

  
_You should have let me give you another one._   
_\- Massim_   


Paolo picked it up. It wasn't his old one. This one was new - the areas where the Bruniton finish started to turn were missing.

As if he was reading Paolo's mind, Raballo said, "No, it's not your old Beretta. Signore D'Acampo told me what you did with it. This one has your grips, though." He studied them as Paolo put them back in the velvet-lined cavity. "You put a few more notches in them, didn't you?"

Paolo nodded. "I've been busy."

"Good. I'm glad to see you haven't gotten rusty. Anyhow, the doctors say it's good to have a gift ready when she wakes up. It helps cement the bond, they say."

Paolo looked at him blankly. "Sir?"

The corner of Raballo's mouth twitched. Paolo never saw him smile, but this was as close as he could remember. "Oh, they didn't tell you? You're going to be a handler. So, what are you going to name her?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Typo caught by PSVT


	2. Dina Chapter 2: Waking Up

**_Dina_  Chapter 2: Waking Up**

_Hospitals are the same everywhere in the first world - white in colour, acrid in scent, and lacking in soul_ , Paolo mused. Unbidden memories of his car wreck, the long convalescence, and the interminable physical therapy filled his thoughts. He shook his head free of their unwanted grasp, and took in the room.

Unlike most, this one did not have a window. It had instead a large mirror, one Paolo recognized from many an interrogation room. He walked up and gave it five light raps with his knuckle - a slow one followed by two quick taps, then two slow ones. _Shave-and-a-haircut._ He listened and was rewarded by the expected response: two slow taps.  _Two bits._ He nodded at the mirror, acknowledging the mystery observer.  _It's probably the Captain._

Paolo continued his survey. This room was not initially designed as a hospital room. A fuse box disturbed one wall, and the ceiling had open vents dotting between the fluorescent panels. In the corner sat unused two or three wheeled privacy panels. A wheeled trolley was the only furniture in the room aside from the bed. No chairs.

After a quizzical look at the mirror, Paolo approached the bed. It seemed huge compared to the tiny form under the blanket. Her head was likewise too small compared to the pillow under it. Her shoulder-length yellowish-brown hair was neatly brushed. The young girl's face was relaxed, but a rivulet of tears traced its way from the corner of each eye.

Paolo rested the white box at the foot of the bed, pulled a tissue from the box on the trolley and dabbed the sleeping girl's tears. Looking around, he did not find a waste bin, so he put the slightly damp tissue in his pocket.

She inhaled deeply, then yawned as she sat up. The blankets fell away, revealing a pale green smock over her boyish body. One arm straight up, the other bent back, she finally opened her eyes. "Eeep!" she squealed, then hurriedly smoothed her wrinkled top. "Hello, Signore Di Tomaso!"

Paolo stood a little straighter, surprised by her enthusiasm. "Uh, hello, Dina. Did you sleep well? His hand, still in his pocket, squeezed the tissue. "What did you dream about?"

She frowned, lips pursed, head canted. "I ... I don't remember. Is it important? I'll try to remember it next time, I promise! I'm sorry I -"

"No, no. That's fine. I was just asking. It's okay if you don't remember your dreams. So, you know my name. What else do you know about me?"

She placed one finger to the side of her jaw and let her eyes rise absently at the line where the wall joined the ceiling. "Well, I know you're Signore Paolo Di Tomaso, and you graduated from  _Università di Camerino._  After that, you were in the _Carabinieri_ for fifteen years, and were cross-assigned to the  _Servizio per le Informazioni e la Sicurezza Militare_ for five years under Captain Claudio Raballo." She blinked. "Uh... what does cross-assigned mean?"

The question seemed so incongruous Paolo gaped for a second before he could answer. "It meant I was still officially in the _Carabinieri_ , but I was working for the SISMI. So why did you use the word if you didn't know what it meant?"

Dina looked at him and smiled. "I don't know. It just came out, I guess. Is that okay?"

With a shrug, Paolo said, "I guess it's okay."

"Great!" Her smile beamed even more brightly, causing her eyes to almost squint shut. It was one of pure joy, of infinite gratitude.

It disquieted Paolo. The reaction was so strong, but unexpected and undeserved. "Look, you don't have to be so ..."

She froze and looked at him, stared at him. Her eyes were wide, her gaze utterly unguarded and open to him.

_She's expecting an order._

"I mean, could you not be so ... excited? It sort of ... bothers me."

Instantly, the smile fell away, and she clasped her hands in her lap. Her eyes never left his, and showed no spark of resentment. If anything, they seemed even hungrier for his next words. She blinked twice, then swallowed. "Uh.. Is this better?"

He sighed. "Yes. It seems you know a little about me. So what do you know about yourself?"

"My name is Dina. I work for the Social Welfare Agency. You are my handler. I will do whatever you say."

"Why?"

"Huh?" She startled from the formal pose. Her head tilted to one side again. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why will you do whatever I say?"

"Uh... because you're my handler?" No longer awaiting a command, her eyes came alive again, this time looking at him with a mix of pleading and hope.

"I might tell you to kill someone. Would you do it?"

"Yes. Who?" Without hesitation, she responded. Her pupils again grew large, eager for instructions.

"No one. No one. I'm just asking. Killing someone is very serious, you know. It changes you."

"Uh-huh." She nodded.

"You knew that?"

"Nuh-uh. But you said it, so it's gotta be true."

"You're not bothered by this?"

"Nope. It's what the Agency wants me to do, right?"

Paolo thought back to the girls training at the ranges and simulated environments. "Sometimes. Sometimes, we just need to watch and take notes." He sighed. "But most of the time, I think they expect you to kill."

"Yay! I got it right! Eeep!" In mid cheer, she stopped and cringed in contrition. "I'm sorry, Signore Di Tomaso! I'll try to be quieter! I promise."

"No, no, that's all right. Just be yourself. It was wrong of me to ask you to change."

She gasped. "Oh, no. It wasn't wrong. If I was bugging you, I should change, right?"

Paolo opened his mouth, then closed it and swallowed.  _Either answer is wrong._  He shot a glare at the mirror.  _Raballo, what have you gotten me into?_

"Signore Di Tomaso? Should I change?"

"No. Just be yourself." He braced himself for the inevitable.

"Great!"

"Look, I have to go. I need to talk with Captain Raballo about something important." He picked up the box.

"Uh, Signore Di Tomaso?"

He stopped, his hand on the door handle. "Yes? And, can you call me Paolo?"

In that soft whisper only little girls can muster, she said, "I think you're very handsome, Signore Pablo."

 


	3. Dina Chapter 3: Keeping Up

**_Dina_ Chapter 3: Keeping Up**

In the darkened observation room, Priscilla and Olga remained after Raballo took his leave. Olga was there because Priscilla was there. Priscilla was there because she couldn't move.

With a forced grin, Olga said, "Well, she is too undisciplined to be a dancer, but she could be a singer with her voice."

Priscilla said nothing, still staring at the little girl sitting on her bed, studying the room.

"Priscilla? Are you well?"

"That's ... that's not her. That's not Alessia. I mean, I mean, that  _is_ her, but she's so different." With that, she bolted out of the room.

The door to Dina's room was locked by a keycode known only to the medical staff, but Priscilla had long added override codes to the doors. She burst into the room.

"Hi, Signorina Meleori!"

"Uh, hello, Dina." Priscilla took a deep breath. "Do you know who Alessia is?"

Dina looked stricken. "No, should I?"

"Calm down, calm down. No, I was just wondering. You ... you ... you look like a friend of mine, well, the daughter of a friend of mine. Her name was Alessia, that's all."

"Oh, okay. She must be a nice person. Uh, they must be nice people, I mean."

Priscilla approached the bed. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, you're a nice person, and if they're your friends, then they're nice people too, right?"

"Can I sit down?" Priscilla noted a rectangle where the blanket's nap had been disturbed, one the size of a large shoebox.

"Of course, Signorina Meleori."

"Priscilla, please. Call me Priscilla."

"Uh, okay, Sig... I mean Priscilla." Dina hunched as she corrected her mistake.

"It's all right. It's all right. Look. See? I'm not upset about it."

A timid grin surfaced on Dina's face.

Priscilla sat down at the foot of the bed and smiled back at the little girl. "Yes, they were nice people. Very nice people. Do you want to hear a story about them?"

The bed bounced as Dina clapped. "Yes! Oh, yes! Please!"

"Well, this was back when I was about your age, and away at school. I met this older girl named Favianne..."

Ξ§§§Ξ

Paolo sat in the office chair his sparse dormitory room. Captain Raballo leaned against the desk. A bed and a freestanding armoire comprised the remainder of the furniture.

"I'll be honest. I don't like this. It's like you said, say the wrong thing and she goes to pieces. Or she starts dancing with joy. Or something. She's too excitable."

Raballo nodded. "Each girl reacts to the conditioning differently. Also, they had to do some more replacements with her. From what I understand, her organs also failed, so she has more than just replaced arms and legs."

"Oh? What happened?"

The older man pointed at the shallow desk drawer above the footwell. "It's in there. Her file. She's a good kid."

"You knew her from before?"

"Me? Oh, no. After what happened to her, if I knew her then, I'd be out there hunting down those bastards."

"What ha... Oh, I'll just read the file."

"A good idea. They've all had their memories wiped clean, but little things still show up. Take Claes, for example. Before her accident, she loved to paint and read. Last week, I set her up with an easel and some paints, and she's quite good."

Paolo nodded. They watched the setting sun. Like Captain Raballo's room, Paolo's also overlooked the training fields. In the reddish light, small flashes from the rifle range seemed like oversized fireflies.

"As I was saying earlier, each handler is responsible for his girl, and has a great deal of leeway in her care. She's right now heavily dosed with the conditioning drugs to help her body adjust to all the replaced organs and limbs, but it's up to you how much to give her."

"How much do you give Claes?"

"The minimum."

"Is that why she's so calm?"

The Captain looked at his cane for a few seconds. "No, I think that's something that carried over also. I mean, most of the other girls get calmer the heavier the dose, but Claes has always been this way, no matter how much or how little she gets."

"Why drug her at all, then? If you stop, you'll know for sure."

"Hm, looks like making you read all those books did help you after all."

"Well, you told me that the difference between the SISMI and the  _Carabinieri_ was being allowed to ask why."

"Actually, I said  _required._ A good soldier needs to be aware of more than his rifle. That's why even though they have the girls, they keep us around."

"I'm not sure I'll stick around." Paolo pushed the chair back from the desk and swiveled it to face the door. "I don't think Dina will work out."

"Give her some time. Once less of the drug is in her system, maybe she'll be less flighty. Give her a chance."

Paolo sighed. "I will. Maybe she'll be calmer once she's off the drugs."

Raballo rested a meaty hand on Paolo's shoulder. "No, there's a minimum dose for a reason."

"Organ rejection?"

"No. It's addictive. Not that I've tried that with Claes. But the medical staff have said that these girls will become very unstable if they're not regularly given some of it."

Paolo stiffened. "You're addicting them? It's bad enough you're taking away their childhoods, their memories, their names, even. But you're addicting them like a wharfside pimp?"

The hand clamped down on him, keeping him from rising. "With most of them, taking their memories away is a blessing. These were not happy little girls before we found them. Ask yourself: what would make an eleven year old girl jump off a bridge? Twice?"

"That still doesn't make it right."

"No. It doesn't. But it gives them a chance to live a happier life."

Paolo deflated.

Raballo took his hand off his once-protégé's shoulder.

Paolo slowly turned the chair back around to face the Captain. "Twice?"

"Hm?"

"You said that one of the girls jumped off a bridge twice."

Raballo's face darkened slightly. He nodded. "She broke her leg the first time. Once out of the hospital, she rolled her wheelchair back to the same bridge and jumped again. This time, she landed head-first, and paralyzed herself from the neck down."

Paolo sat back. "They can fix that?"

Raballo nodded. "At a cost." He raised his hand, palm up. "It's too great a cost for most people, and the implants work best when the bodies are still young. What they learn from these girls goes on to improve replacement limbs for the outside world, the normal world."

"I can't imagine anyone would mind being addicted to this drug if they could walk again." Paolo gave a low whistle. "Why haven't we released this yet? There are thousands of people out there who could bene-"

"Because the drug is also killing them. Those girls aren't expected to live more than five years."

 


	4. Dina Chapter 4: Paying Up

**_Dina_ Chapter 4: Paying Up**

"... and then we snuck out of the principal's office and she had her teddy bear back. She kept it hidden from that day on, and -"

"Oh, I know! And lived happily ever after, right?" Dina quivered excitedly on the bed, a wide smile gracing her face.

Priscilla paused. "Well, I guess so. I mean, she was my  _sorella_ only for one year, and then she graduated." She blinked away an unwanted thought. "But, when she packed up for the University, I know she still had that bear, so ... yeah, happily ever after."

"Yay! You're such a good storyteller, Sign... ah, Priscilla. Sorry!" Dina laughed nervously. "And you know what the best part is?" She leaned forward, one hand cupping view of her mouth from that side.

Curious, Priscilla leaned and turned her head.

A giggle and a whisper rewarded her. "The best part is, it's true. She lived happily ever after. You said it, so it has to be true."

Priscilla felt her smile wane, and forced it back in place. The little girl's effervescence was so strong that they were both smiling soon after the story began, but now, like a persistent fly, one thought didn't allow her to share in that childlike joy.

Before the facade faded, she wanted to step away. Priscilla hugged the little girl, and was rewarded with a quick buss on her cheek. She smiled, and rose from the bed, but a tiny hand shot outward and grabbed the hem of her blouse. It moved so fast and so forcefully, the garment tore halfway up the seam.

Dina recoiled, her other arm crushing the offending hand against her heaving chest. "I'm sorry, Signorina Meleori! I'm very, very sorry! Very, very, very-"

Stricken, Priscilla glanced around, then buried Dina in a hug. "Dina, Dina. Calm down. It is just my blouse, that's all."

"...very sorry, I'm so very sorry, very, very..." She sniffled and looked up Priscilla, eyes streaming tears. "I just ... I just..." She looked away. "I just wanted you to stay a little longer," she whispered.

Priscilla flashed a smile. "This was an old blouse, anyhow. I was going to throw it away soon. So... what do you want to talk about?"

"It's... it's Signore Paolo. I don't think ... I don't think he likes me."

"Oh, honey. How can anyone  _not_ like you? You're so cute, so adorable!"

"Really? I don't know-"

"Remember? Remember what you said? If he said it, it had to be true?"

"Uh-huh."

"Right now, I'm saying it. Does that make it true?"

"Make what true?"

"I'm saying that Signore Paolo likes you. Do you believe me?"

The little chestnut-haired girl nodded once.

Priscilla gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Now, I need to get going. Is that okay?"

Once out the door, she set off searching for Paolo.

Ξ§§§Ξ

Paolo was standing under the covered walkway between the dormitory and the operations building, staring at the courtyard when the pretty polygraph technician approached.

"This place looks so peaceful, doesn't it?" Paolo said, trying to will away his reservations.

She nodded. "This was once a monastery. There's a chapel over the hill, and a cemetery." She paused for moment to let his gaze follow her outstretched hand. The sun had just set, so no amount of squinting would allow him to see it. "She's got a very good heart, Signore Di Tomaso."

"Paolo, please. Priscilla, was it?"

She nodded again. "Paolo." She said it cautiously, testing the sound. "She has a very good heart, Paolo. I owe her my life."

"I know. I read her file. She's a very resourceful little girl. Hard to believe, under all that bubbliness."

"That's not her, it's the conditioning. She will be back to normal, and ..." Her voice died off.

Paolo cleared his throat. "I'm sure with the right handler, she'll be fantastic. Her innocence will really help in-"

"Wait. You're not thinking of leaving, are you?"

With a sigh, Paolo said, "I'm considering it. When the Captain said this was counter-terrorist and intelligence work I thought it would be ... well, different. I'm used to that, to living a lie and risking my life. The kid makes-"

"Dina. She has a name. It's not her original one, but it's her name."

"Okay. Dina changes everything. I don't think I could bear to look at myself if she got hurt on the job, on my orders. And I can't imagine sending her out solo, or putting her on point. I mean, she's just ten."

Priscilla smiled. "You have a good heart. I was right about you. And, besides, the cyborgs are very tough. I've read what you can do, and I think Dina, once you get used to working with her, I think she can fight better than you can."

Paolo paused and looked to the training ranges. A blonde girl with two thin ponytails entered the Hogan's Alley. Soon out of sight, her shotgun's booms reinforced Priscilla's last statement.

"I review all the mission reports. The girls have been in some very tough situations, but they do fine." The pretty brunette put her hand gently on his elbow.

Paolo nodded, his eyes and thoughts distant.

"What is it? What's bothering you, Paolo?"

"It's her ... her whole nature. How she's so happy one moment and ready to cry a second later. I know, I know, it's the drugs. But, right now, it makes me almost scared to talk to her. I don't want to see her cry. I didn't earlier, when I first met her, but after reading what she went through, the thought of her in tears really bothers me."

Priscilla nodded slowly. "They rarely cry. I mean, not counting Alessia, that is. And she didn't cry before the ... the incident happened." She shook off a bad memory. "Anyhow, give her some time. Once the drugs wear off, she'll be better. I'm sure of it."

Paolo sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Priscilla interrupted him before he began.

"I need to tell you something, Paolo. Next to the chapel and cemetery is a crematorium. The chapel and cemetery don't get a lot of use, but the crematorium does." She paused to watch his puzzled face struggle to make the connection. "You can't leave this place. Not on a whim like this. Not alive, anyhow."

"You don't actually expect me to believe that, do you? I'm not a rookie to the intelligence game. We tease them like that, but I'm long past that stage." His smile froze when he took in her expression.

"I'm very serious. You held back the fact you knew your brother was still alive. That would have-"

"I already told you. I don't have a brother. Why do you think I named her Dina?"

"Your brother, who you grew up with, who joined the Padania, the very people we're trying to stop. You left that part out. There were some people who didn't even want to let you take the polygraph test."

"I wouldn't have been offered this job?"

"You would have been killed. We don't like secrets like that here. You would have been killed, your body burned into ashes, and stuck in one of the many niches in the columbarium at the south end of the cemetery."

Paolo gaped.

"If you hadn't passed the polygraph with high marks, we wouldn't be having this talk, Paolo. But you did, so we are."

Mouth parched, all he managed was an unsteady nod.

"Those people still don't trust you. They're waiting for you to make that one, that last mistake."

He put his hand on a column to keep upright.

"And one last thing. Your test marks? I mis-calibrated the machine when we asked the baseline questions. Deliberately." She took a deep breath.

"I owe Dina my life. You owe me yours. That means, you owe Dina your life."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**  Thanks to PSVT for catching a hair colour contradiction.

 


	5. Dina Chapter 5: Owning Up

**_Dina_ Chapter 5: Owning Up**

The white box sat on his desk, challenging him. Paolo stared past it, his thoughts still in Director Lorenzo's office. Yes, of course Section 2 of the Social Welfare Agency wanted him. No, the Director never heard anyone voicing doubts about him. Definitely, Paolo was to tell the Director of any disharmony in the team.

_What a waste of time that was._  Of course Lorenzo would give those answers. Either he didn't know, which Paolo doubted, or he shared the doubts.  _Or, he's the doubter._  No matter. He believed Priscilla. The intensity of her eyes, the slight upward tilt of her head, the tightening of her voice – Paolo learned long ago to read these cues, and they all attested to the veracity of her words. Her threat, really.

Paolo stood from his chair, took the box under his arm and exited his room.

Ξ§§§Ξ

"Uh, here." Paolo offered the box to Dina, who promptly bounced out of the hospital bed and grabbed it. Surprisingly, she tossed it onto her bed, but unsurprisingly, she cracked his lower back with a two-handed hug.

His back actually felt better after that.

Just as suddenly, she released him and leapt backwards back onto the bed, a smile filling her mouth, and tears streaming from her eyes. "Thank you, Signore Paolo! I'm very grateful for the gift."

"But… but you don't know what it is."

"That doesn't matter, Signore Paolo! It's from you! That's all that matters."

Inwardly, he groaned. "Dina? Dina, don't you think this is over-reacting?"

As before, she instantly collapsed her hands into her lap, and her face drained of joy. Her eyes blinked, trying to stem the tears. Her cheeks trembled, her willpower straining against her want to smile again.

"No, Dina. It's fine. You can laugh, you can smile. In fact, I think your smile is adorable. I'm just asking if you feel this is … well, normal."

As if she was a mime, she tilted her head to one side and looked at the ceiling, with her index finger alighting on the corner of her mouth. A few heartbeats of silence passed, then she looked again at Paolo. "Of course it is. I feel it in my heart." She hugged the box to her body so tight he heard the blow molded plastic case inside creak.

"Okay. I believe you. In that case, can I have the box back?" He held out his hand.

Her hands automatically placed the slightly creased box on his palm, but her eyes turned downcast. The tears stopped, but they welled in her eyes.

Paolo nodded. "Thank you. Good girl. I have two reasons for asking for it back. The first is that girls your age shouldn't be playing with things like that. I would like you to have, uh…" Paolo patted his pockets, then fished out a small notebook from his inside jacket pocket.  _It will have to do._  "I want you to have this, so you can draw in it, write in it, fold the sheets into paper airplanes, whatever. Use at least one sheet a day, okay? When you run low on paper, just let me know and I'll refill it."

Dina looked down and her shoulders lowered.  _This isn't what she was… what she was made to do._

"The second reason I asked for it back is because I gave this to you too casually."

Dina's eye lids lifted from their gloom. Her expression lightened and she leaned toward him.

"See, if those are your true feelings, then I didn't respect them when I first gave you this. I should have given it to you like this." He cleared his throat. "Dina, we'll be working together a long time. It will be dangerous. Bad men will be shooting at us. I want you to be able to defend yourself. To defend  _us_. I want you to have this, and to use it in the service of the Social Welfare Agency."

Ξ§§§Ξ

"Uh, Signorina Meleori?"

Startled, Priscilla let out a quick squeak as she spun about in her desk chair. "Dina! What are you doing here?"

"I uh, couldn't sleep?" Dina stood in the doorway. One hand rested on the doorjamb, the other clutched the white box to her chest.

Priscilla blinked. "I mean, how you did get here?"

"At the medical building, there was a computer, so I searched for you. Was that okay?"

"No, I mean-" Priscilla stopped and backtracked. "I mean yes. Yes. It's great that you found me. No need to cry, dear. And come in, please." She extended her arms.

Dina dashed into her arms, embracing still the box, but letting the woman hug her.

"Thank you, Signo … I mean Priscilla." She sniffled. "Thank you."

"Dina, I meant 'how did you unlock your room?' when I asked how you got here."

"Oh, that's easy. I just watched as you and the rest of the doctors did it. You use 8-6-7-5-3-0-9, and everyone else uses 5-2-6-8-8-2." Dina beamed proudly.

Priscilla laughed. "Smart! Well, being alert is one of the things we made… made you learn to do."

Now at ease, the young girl looked around. "I like your room, Priscilla. The paintings are pretty."

"Thank you, Dina. Now, I have some bad news for you. You're supposed to be in the medical building, and some people might get worried if you're not there."

"Oh, that's okay. The computer didn't say anyone was going to visit until breakfast. I have another ten hours!" She smiled even wider.

Priscilla nodded slowly. "That's also very … observant. But still, someone might see you and wonder why you're not there."

Dina's lips pursed. "So I should stay there? How long do I have to stay there?"

"Well, the doctor and Signore Paolo thought it would be a good idea to keep you there for a week or two. You know we had to perform surgery on you, right?"

Dina nodded. "There's a notebook they left hanging on the end of the bed. I didn't understand a lot of the words, but the pictures were neat!"

Priscilla paused. "Those were photos you during of your surgeries. Did you know that?"

"Uh-huh." To Priscilla's surprise, the smile continued to warm the room.

"When we did that, the doctors had to give you a lot of drugs. Some of those may affect your emotions, how you feel. Paolo and the doctors wanted to give those drugs a chance to leave your body first."

"Oh, that sort of explains why Signore Paolo asked me if I really loved him or not."

Slowly, Priscilla nodded. "That's right. The drugs also affect how you react to certain people."

"So?" Dina slowly shrugged off the hug.

"So? I don't know what you're asking, Dina."

"Do I really love him?"

"Only time will tell, sweetheart. Only time will tell." She gave a slight smile. "It's that way for us adults, too."

The room sat mired in silence, Dina cheerfully studying the paintings on Priscilla's walls, and Priscilla quietly contemplating dark questions.

Finally, Priscilla spoke. "Sweetie? I think you need to go back to your room now."

"Okay, Priscilla. I'm sorry for interrupting you."

"Oh, you weren't, dear. I was already done, and just reading it over."

"What were you writing? A story? Was it about Favianne and the bear? Can I read it?"

"No, dear." Priscilla exhaled slowly. "It was a letter. To Favianne."

With a touch of disappointment in her voice, Dina said, "Oh, all right." Her face brightened. "Can I help you mail it? Where is she now? With the  _Carabinieri_? Is she having cool -"

"No, dear. Favianne died a few months ago. I just wanted to write her a letter, like I used to when I was still in that school."

"Oh? What are you going to do with it, then?"

"I don't know. I guess burn it, so the smoke takes the words to heaven? Yeah, that's a good idea. Thank you, Dina."

The girl giggled. "You thought of it, Priscilla. Not me. Hey! Let's do it now."

"Oh, honey. People might see you, remember? Besides there's a better place for it. She's in a niche," Priscilla stopped, seeing Dina's confusion. "When she died, we … uh, we turned her body to ashes and put them in a safe place. It's nearby, on the grounds. I'll do it there."

"She's buried here? That's kind of spooky. Does Alessia come and visit?"

"What?"

"Alessia. Her daughter, right? Isn't it normal to visit graves, you know, leave flowers? When can I meet her?"

"Oh. No, she's … uh, she's far away and can't visit. I guess I'm the one who does that."  _And I don't do it enough._

"Oh, okay. That's really nice of you, Priscilla."

"Uh, thanks, Dina. Now, to your room, and don't let anyone see you. Good night, sweetie."

_Favianne deserves better._


	6. Dina's Epilogue

**_Dina's_  Epilogue**

Paperwork is often perceived to exist simply to slow people down. In truth, how much it slows a person is much more dependent on the person than the paper. Priscilla Meleori normally could wade across any sea of administrative trivia, but it still took her a week before a very simple task could be concluded.

The task of re-interring Favianne DeAngelis' remains with that of her husband and son.

Only one task remained: the marker. The graveyard in which Piero and Alessio laid in peace was adamant that all the statuary and grave markers come from a specific supplier, and that supplier was equally adamant that the design be selected in-person.

Fortunately, he was willing to meet Priscilla on a weekend. As she motored along on her scooter, Priscilla thought back to the happy few weekends where she visited Alessia at their common school, the laughter shared, the stories exchanged and the memories made.

The stone carver's shop occupied a small corner of the graveyard, next to a sprawling and colourful florist. In contrast, the studio was dim and cluttered.  _How can he see in this?_

The stone carver was a stooped and white-haired man. His gait was unsteady and shuffling, but his arms were wiry and steady. "DeAngelis, hm? I remember them. Half-a-dozen years or so. Father and a little boy. His sister picked it out, dark granite with an angel on one side. That's the mother, you say? We could do the same thing, with the angel on the other side. Bookends, in a way."

Fatigued from her ride and reminiscing, Priscilla simply nodded.

"Only one problem, though."

_What is it now?_  Priscilla hoped he didn't hear her sigh, then realized she didn't care.

He waited for her response, then shrugged and continued. "The DeAngelis marker is a double. Father and son. If we make the mother's marker a single, it won't look balanced."

"A … double?" Her mind flashed to an ebullient little girl with long, dirty blond tresses, a winning grin and deep brown eyes.

"Marker, Signorina. Marker. Two graves, so two names on the stone. Two names on the stone, it has to be twice as wide." His hands fluttered as he spoke, and settled to describe a span roughly a meter apart. "Now a single is this wide. You see the difference? Single. Double. We have a double already, so if we put a single next-"

"Okay." Doctor Bianchi's words battered at Priscilla's memory.  _At this time, projected life span is five years on the outside._

"Okay what? You want a single or double?"

Her eyes closed, her head bowed, her voice soft, she said, "Double."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Thanks (again) to PSVT for catching (yet another) typo. You have sharp eyes!

 


	7. Training Chapter 1: Little Lies

**_Training_  Chapter 1: Little Lies**

Dina released the slide lock and decocked the hammer to the Beretta 90-Two, set it down on the small round table standing in a pool of morning sun, then removed her blindfold, a pair of swimming goggles with the eye-cups fully blacked out. She blinked, then looked hopefully at Paolo.

"Two minutes, five seconds. You can do better. You need to know that weapon by feel, every part." He looked up from his watch. "The Captain will meet us at Hogan's Alley in ten minutes, so let's pack it up. After that, we'll resume this until you can do it in a minute or less. Faster is better"

"Yes, Signore Paolo." She was already wearing her dark blue, knee-length pea coat, holding Paolo's midnight blue trench coat in her outstretched hand from where it hung in her dorm room's closet.

Raballo was already at the automated firing range, standing at the foot of the stairs to the observation walkway over the firing ranges. He again wore a tan overcoat, this one with a belt. "I see you forgot my fifth rule."

Paolo nodded. "'Always arrive early to set the stage.' Dina was having some troubles with her … her weapons locker. The combination they gave her had two numbers reversed."

Dina looked up at Paolo, eyes widened in curiosity.

Raballo's mouth twitched. "Are you sure she didn't remember it wrong?"

Paolo shook his head. "They printed it out. I tried it, twice."

Raballo nodded. "No point wasting time. Dina? Inspection."

Mechanically, Dina ejected the magazine out of the 90-Two and held the slide back, barrel downward.

Raballo lifted it from her hands and looked down the breech. "You need to clean it better. And there's too much lube." He shook his head and sighed. "Let's start."

"Yes, Captain Raballo!" Dina raised stopped studying the tiny buckles on her shoes, received the weapon from his hand, reseated the empty magazine and ran into course.

"Still using those digital binoculars, Captain?" asked Paolo as they mounted the stairs.

Raballo let out a slow breath. "They told me they wanted me to teach, so I brought my teaching tools."

Paolo gave a small laugh. "I hated those things, you know? Each time you brought those out, I knew reviewing the footage was going to be painful. Long and painful."

Raballo gave a slight nod, but held the glasses steady, following her progress as she dry-fired her way through the course. "They're the best way to show you your mistakes. Like that one. She's exposing too much of herself around that half-wall."

The younger man nodded and stole a glance at the Captain, who was studying the girl intently.

"Paolo? If you lie to cover for her, you're not doing her any favors in the long run. Remember, she's a tool, nothing more. You wouldn't lie to make an excuse for a dull saw, would you?"

"No, sir."

"I'm not saying… Never mind. Just think it over."

"Yes, sir."

"And don't call me 'sir'. We're all the same here."

_Are we really?_

Ξ§§§Ξ

Between bites of  _Zuppa Inglese_  custard, Dina said, "Signore Paolo?"

His mouth full of the sweet trifle, Paolo quickly swallowed. "Yes, Dina?"

"Did I do something… right?"

"Hm?"

"Uh, why are we here?" She waved to indicate the white and windowed trattoria.

"Well, you were very patient when Captain Raballo played back the video and gave you pointers."  _More like criticized your every move,_  Paolo thought. _And harshly._

"You agreed with him, right? I mean, you agreed with what the Captain said?"

"Of course. It may save your life someday. Probably will. I know it did that for me. Multiple times"

She nodded somberly. "That's why, Signore Paolo. You wanted me to learn, so I had to watch and listen."

Paolo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Dina looked at him expectantly, but he shook his head. "It's nothing. Just glad you kept your eyes on the screen, that's all."

She nodded and they ate in silence for a while.

"Uh, Signore?"

Paolo looked up from his thoughts and nodded minutely.

"Why did you lie to Captain Raballo?" She tilted her head slightly to the left, owl-like eyes boring into him.

"Ah." He took a sip of water. "Well, we're partners, right? We have to look out for each other."

She looked down and nodded, deep in thought. Absently, she spooned out mouthfuls of the sweet treat and ate them mechanically.  _Is it okay for me to_   _do that?_  She tried to imagine herself doing so to Paolo…

"Dina? Is something wrong?" Dina hadn't noticed, but Paolo had his right hand on her shoulder, shaking it lightly.

She blinked, fighting the throbbing in her skull. "I don't feel so well, Signore Paolo. Can we go home please?"

"Of course." He stood, gathered their jackets, and led her out of the trattoria.

Once home, he made her lie down, covered her with her flowered blanket, then left. She laid there as the migraine abated, then tried to think of a lie to tell Paolo…

She was revived by the dosing alarm's persistent chirp, her head still pained and pounding. Staggering to the plain melamine dresser, she picked up a new blister pack of light-violet pills from the top drawer and started to push one through the foil backing.

With all her will, she stilled her thumb. Her head felt like a volcano about to erupt. She dropped the pristine blister pack back into the open drawer and pushed it shut onto her finger, but it didn't hurt. It couldn't hurt enough to be noticed, not when her eyes pulsed with hot coals. She grabbed the dresser and tried to orient herself toward her bed…

…and collapsed, mouth open in a rictus of agony, throat too tensed even to scream.

Ξ§§§Ξ

"Forty-three… forty-four… forty-five… and forty-six!" The pistol, assembled, landed on the table with a soft tap. She tore off the blindfold and smiled brightly at Paolo.

"Very good, Dina. Very good." He pantomimed a few claps.

"Yay!" She threw her arms in the air.

Paolo smiled at her. As Priscilla predicted, her reactions grew less extreme over the past three weeks. She still hugged, though with less force, more control. She still smiled when praised, still shrank when chastised, but at least didn't melt into tears.

"You know what this means, Dina?"

"What, Signore Paolo?"

"We can move onto unarmed combat. This shows you have enough muscle control to practice with safely."

"Uh-huh!"

Paolo stood. "I need to set up the simulated house for that. As a reward for this… take the rest of the day off."

"Signore Paolo?"

"Do whatever you want. Play with the dolls," Paolo waved at the neat bookshelf of dolls in frilly dresses. "Go visit the other girls. Do whatever makes you happy. You've earned it."

Reserving one of the three shoot houses for a fortnight took far longer than he thought. Between that and specifying all the modifications, Paolo wasn't done until dinner time.

Lightly knocking on her dormitory room's door, he wasn't sure if she was there, but she called her welcome through the door. To Paolo, her voice sounded a little strained, tired perhaps.

"Okay, all done. We can start in a week," Paolo said as he entered.

She was still seated at the table, blindfolded. "Thirty -eight… thirty-nine… forty… and forty-one!" She slammed the pistol on the table and tore off the blindfold. The table surface was dented dozens of times.

"Dina! That's no way to treat a weapon!"

Her eyes red and puffy, she looked up, saw his glare and collapsed her head into folded arms on the weathered table. "I'm… I'm sorry, Signore… Paolo." Her back heaved as she was racked with dry sobs. Dina struggled to speak. "I wanted to get it done … to get it done in… forty seconds."

"I didn't ask for that! I told you to have fun!"

It took a full minute for her to regain self-control, for her to meet his eyes. Her voice was hoarse from crying. "You said, Signore Paolo, to do something that makes me happy. I decided to do this." She pointed at the Beretta. "Because I wanted you to be proud of me."

Realization gradually chilled Paolo.

She whispered, "That's the only thing that makes me happy."


	8. Training Chapter 2: Little Learnings

**_Training_  Chapter 2: Little Learnings**

The training field was midway between the SWA buildings and their firing range. Where once grew lush grass back when it was tended by monks now were patches of dirt and weeds. Yesterday's sudden rains made the whole field a mess. Into this Amadeo threw Dina. She landed on the muddy field and slid half-a-meter. This was the fifth time she was thrown. She stared at the blue sky, unwilling to try again.

Amadeo walked over to her. He extended his arm, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The sight of the young girl splayed out, eyes open but unfocused brought back too-recent memories.  _Dina. Alessia. Either name we use, same face._

Giorgio and he rushed up the stairs in the old dormitory building at St. Catherine of Siena Academy, searching for the room where Priss and Alessia were trapped. They found it easily because it was the only one with a white towel stuffed under the door. After kicking open the door they found Priscilla and Alessia, both on the floor. Priscilla's eyes were open, blinking under a plastic sheet tied around her head. Alessia lay unmoving, her skin growing pale and mouth gaping.

Giorgio threw a chair out the window to clear the noxious miasma. Amadeo rushed to the petite body and started first aid. Not caring if her lungs were full of poison or not, he blew precious air into her. Every two breaths, then fifteen compressions.

His partner tended to Priscilla. Giorgio ripped the plastic sheeting free, and did the same thing to their teammate. After a few unending seconds, she gasped. Never was a weak cough so welcome!

However, Amadeo wasn't able to do more than grunt his happiness that Priscilla was safe, if weak. For ten crawling minutes, he continued to push, continued to breathe into Alessia. His head felt light, his back and arms ached. He glanced at his fellow agents.

Giorgio shook his head once, then looked away.

Unable to speak, Priscilla could only stare into Amadeo's eyes, pleading silently.

He nodded, swallowed, and resumed.

In the distance, the undulating wail of a siren promised eventual respite.

Ξ§§§Ξ

Amadeo extended his arm.

Dina raised a hand to bat it away, but suddenly grimaced and, at the last second, waved his offer away. "Thank you, Signore Amadeo. Thank you, but no, please."

Amadeo leaned in and scooped him up, muddying both of them. "Let's try it again."

Dina looked over to Jean and Paolo. Jean's mouth remained set, but Paolo gave a slight nod.

"Okay!" She launched herself into Amadeo…

… and ended up splayed prone with her chin in the mud.

Amadeo looked to Paolo. "I'm sorry. Should I—"

Jean shook his head. "Continue."

Amadeo shrugged and looked at Dina apologetically. He beckoned her forward with his fingertips.

Dina charged. In her mind, she desperately reviewed everything Paolo taught her.  _Grab his arm, get close to make up for his reach._

Amadeo sidestepped her, brought his knee into her chest and drove his elbows into her back as she collapsed.

Jean tore his sunglasses off and glared at Paolo. "You said she was trained."

Paolo stepped back. "I taught her as much as I could in two days' time. I thought I had more time."

With a quick grimace, Jean said, "We all think that. We don't." He turned to Amadeo. "Again."

Paolo followed his gaze and called out "Wait!" He turned back to Jean. "What's the point here? To teach, or to watch someone beat up a little girl?"

"Both." Jean lowered his voice to something barely above a growl. "Amadeo—"

"Wait! Amadeo, what's she doing wrong?" He could feel the heat from Jean's stare at the back of his head.

The commando ran his left hand through his hair. "Well, she keeps trying to move in, to hold onto me. She's not big enough to crowd me in, and she's too light to try to pin me down." He held out his arm. "Dina? Grab my wrist and hang on."

She did so.

Almost casually, he lifted his arm like he was curling a dumbbell. Dina weighed 45 kilos, easily half again the mass of a child her size and age, but to Amadeo, she was a minor impediment. "And, she's not even fighting as hard any of the other girls. Uh, I mean 'cyborgs'." He shifted his gaze to Paolo, avoiding Jean's glare.

One that icy stare abated, Jean nodded. "Yes, that's intentional."

"What?" Paolo spun about, almost ready to punch him. "You mean all this time she has been getting beaten up, and you _planned_  it that way?

"Yes, and you know why? To protect  _you_." He beckoned to the two fighters. "She's still learning how to control her body. She could easily crush you or break your arm in a practice session."

Paolo shot a look at the muddied doll that was Dina. "I think I can handle a little girl." He spoke from experience, not hubris. In the past two days, he too sparred with Dina.

Jean looked at Paolo through narrowed eyes. "Cyborg. Always remember. Cyborg." His brow relaxed and he exhaled loudly, dismissively. "You really think so? Unit XA14-07, command override. Set safety level for Agency personnel off."

"Acknowledged." Dina's voice was a monotone, lifeless and mechanical.

"What did you say?" Paolo looked to the cyborg, then Jean.

"She's now capable of injuring us. Injuring you."

"She wasn't before?" Paolo flexed his shoulder.

"If she did before, it was an accident." Jean raised an eyebrow. "If you couldn't handle a little girl when she was trying her best  _not_  to hurt you, are you sure you can do that now?"

Paolo stopped trying to work that ache out.  _Idiot. That was when she landed on me, when I tried to break her fall._  "Of course."

"All right. You train with her. Amadeo, let's go." Jean turned around and left the wet training field, leaving Amadeo to rush after him.

Ξ§§§Ξ

Dina peeled off her mud-encrusted tee-shirt and fatigue pants, her jump boots already a heap by the door. In the mirror, she studied her many bruises: arms, ribs, legs, and a puffy eye. They looked worse than they hurt. She tested moving her arms, now that the adrenaline had worn off.  _I'll be sore tomorrow._

Her undergarments, sodden but at least not stained, joined the pile of dirty laundry as she set the shower on a bracing, scalding spray. Dina stepped into the baby-blue shower stall, cramped and impersonal. The dorm floor only had one bathroom, crowded as it was.

She wished for a bathtub, a way to just float in warm bliss. The medical wing had a pool, but it was only for therapy. She dropped her washcloth and stepped on it, flattening it. Something felt wrong. She knew that being able to squeeze so much water out of the washcloth was unexpected, but could not explain why.

She shook the thought out of her mind. As the hot water loosened her muscles, the aches started to creep in. Reaching up to shampoo her slightly longer than shoulder-length light brown hair made her left shoulder burn. Her augmented hearing noted the nagging beep reminding her to take her pill. Each beep caused her head to throb stronger and stronger. She slammed her fist into the tiled wall. The open door to locker area grew large, threatened to swallow her.

She collapsed on the stall floor. A shaky hand found the shower handle and twisted it to an icy stream. Her muscles clenched in the frigid water. Instinctively, she gathered her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She wasn't able to leave the shower. She wasn't able to move.

As the shivering overtook her, between sledgehammer strikes to her temples, her thoughts struggled back to what Jean said. What he said, and what she replied.

_Unit XA14-07, command override._

_Acknowledged._

Before Jean said that, try as she may, she couldn't strike the large man with apologetic eyes under an unruly shock of brown hair. All she could think of doing was grappling, attempting to lock joints or throws.  _And be thrown._  After Jean's command, she and Paolo's exchanges were much closer. His experience still won out overall, but there were times when she nearly had him.

Nearly, but opted not to.

She saw the opening, knew she could shoot a hand under his, knew she could take her handler down. She didn't. She could, but she didn't.

_Command override. Safety level off._

_Acknowledged._

Why didn't she? Why didn't she, even after Paolo exhorted her to give it her all?  _Why did I dis…_  She winced and banged her head against the shower wall.  _Why did I disobey?_ Her eyes blurred as spots of reds and oranges exploded in front of her.

_Because I can't hurt him?_

_No. I could beat him without hurting him._

_Why didn't I? Why did I … why did I disobey?_  A fiery line scorched her mind, starting at the top of her neck, cresting over her crown and blossoming into a fireball just above her eyes.

_Because I love him._

In spite of the cold, in spite of the jackhammer at her skull, the shivering girl smiled.

_Command override?_

_No._


	9. Training Chapter 3: Little Leaks

**_Training_  Chapter 3: Little Leaks**

The cafeteria was large, wastefully so, for so few girls. The handlers ate lunch separately, so the girls had the dining hall to themselves. Dina sat down at the table with most of her peers.

"…which is why you should always check the hotel rooms for bugs when you walk in." Triela smiled and concluded her story as the two of the other three girls at the table giggled.

Dina liked Triela, even if she seemed a little bossy. She was the oldest of the girls, and seemed the most serious, always dressed in a dark blue men's suit that was tailored down to her slender form. She was tall and kept her blond hair in two ponytails.  _I bet if she let her hair down, it could touch her waist._

That thought lingered, and somehow Triela's serious expression softened in her memory, as if she was someone else.

"What did you do today, Dina?"

Her attempt to grasp some ephemeral memory interrupted, Dina blink and quickly put on a smile to mirror that of the speaker. Henrietta was about her age, and always happy. Her chestnut brown hair seemed to be the same shade as the pleated skirt she often wore, and the white buttoned blouse with a Peter Pan collar that accompanied it reminded Dina of a school uniform.

"I didn't do a lot. We went to the pistol range. Signore Paolo seemed happy with my progress, but I think he's just doing that make me feel good." She looked down. "I couldn't hit the target with every shot."

The one girl who didn't laugh at Triela's story nodded. Claes was always quiet and serious. "We all started out like that. I couldn't even shoot a can consistently when I started." She brushed a stray lock of her long black hair behind her shoulder. "You get better with practice."

Dina smiled. "I hope so. I want Signore Paolo to be proud of me."

"Jose always says, 'If you try your best, I'll always be proud of you.' And he means it, too!" Henrietta smiled so eagerly her eyes closed.

Triela set down her fork. "It depends on the handler. Jean, for example, has a very high standard for Rico. I can't remember the last time he told her, 'Good job' or anything like that. You're just lucky Jose is a softie."

Henrietta tried to respond, then hunched down to try to hide her blush. It didn't work.

"Dina, how is Paolo treating you?" Triela showed some mercy turning her attention to the newest girl.

"Well," Dina said, her lips pursed and her eye looking at the fluorescent light bar, "Good, I guess. I mean, he doesn't spend a lot of time with me." She looked at Claes. "I think he spends more time with Captain Raballo than me."

"Remember, they  _do_  go back many years." Claes idly spun her fork in the angel-hair pasta. "I think they talk about the good days of long, long ago."

The other girl at the table, Angelica, had long dark brown hair, though her face was topped with bangs instead of Claes' neat pinned front locks. She was silent until this point, her eyes following the conversation, but without any sign of wanting to join. "I thought these are the good days, not before. At least, that's what Marco tells me."

"Like I said, it depends on the handler. I don't know what Raballo did before he join us, but I think he enjoys his time here." Triela looked at Claes. "He spends a lot of time with you off-site, Claes. Is he training you with people he knows outside the agency?"

Claes blinked twice. "No, but he is teaching me a lot. It's mostly about life, really. I'm not sure how it relates to our mission, but I'm sure he has a reason. He's a very smart man."

"Oh, it could be so you could be a better … you know, the kind of spy they send in and pretend to be someone else?" Henrietta giggled.

"Undercover." Claes stood, half-full lunch tray in her hands. "And, no, I don't think so. But, he says to learn it, so I learn it."

"Claes? Could I ask you something? Does… does Captain Raballo ever talk about Signore Paolo? What he likes, or what he expects?"

"No. When we're outside of this place, we don't talk about the Agency. And, I'd rather not talk about my time with him outside anymore." She turned and departed.

A stifling silence settled over the table, accented by cutlery on melamine plates. More to break the mood than out of true interest, Dina asked, "So what about that girl in who just takes her food back to her room? Does she always eat alone?"

"Which one?" Triela didn't look up from the last of her chicken carbonara. "We have two loners on the team, Pia and Elsa."

"Uh, she has short hair?"

"That's both of them. One has silver, the other blonde." She twirled one of her blond ponytails absent-mindedly.

"Oh, uh… I don't know. Either, I guess. I mean, why don't they eat with us?"

"I don't think they want to. Either that, or their handlers don't want them to." Henrietta started stacking the other girls' trays and plates on her.

"You don't have to do that!"

"Oh, let her," Angelica said. "She always does that."

"It makes me feel useful." Henrietta neatly stacked all the dishes atop one tray and nested the remainder under it. "I know how you feel, Dina. Sometimes, when I think I've messed up, and Jose says it's all right, I wonder if he is saying that to just make me feel better."

Dina smiled at Henrietta. "Thank you. You know what? I wish you were my sister."

"You're ten, right? So's Henrietta. You'd have to be twins for that to work out." Triela patted Dina on the shoulder.

_Twins?_  Dina tilted her head and let the others walk ahead as she pondered the thought.  _I like the idea of having a twin._

Ξ§§§Ξ

Paolo looked up from cleaning his weapon. "Come in."

The door opened just enough to admit Dina's head. "Uh… Signore Paolo? Can I bother you for a second?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"I found a bug in my room."

"Did you kill it?"

"No, not that kind of bug, Signore Paolo."

"Show me. Do you have it with you?"

"N-n-no, Signore Paolo. Should I have?"

"No, you did the right thing. Best thing to do when you discover a listening device is to act like you still don't know you're being spied on." He stood. "Where is it?"

"You know the lamp by my bed? It was in there."

"Did the bulb burn out?"

"Huh? No. It works fine."

"So how did you find it? And, we shouldn't talk about this with the door open. Come in, please."

"Okay." She eased the door shut behind her. "Well, I went looking for it. We were talking at lunch-"

"We?" He patted his bed.

Dina sat on it demurely, smoothing her red skirt as she did. "Triela, Henrietta, Claes and Angelica. Triela was telling a story-"

"And?"

"-and it ended with her saying that she always checked her hotel rooms for bugs." She swallowed. "So I did."

"Where was it?"

"Can I show you on your lamp?" Dina crawled on his bed and picked it up. She twisted the base off and pointed.

There where she indicated was a small printed circuit board with various components, and a long single wire extending into the ceramic, vase-like body.

"Just like the one in my room."

 


	10. Training Chapter 4: Little Lacunas

**_Training_  Chapter 4: Little Lacunas**

"In your light, you say?" Raballo leaned on his cane and stared at the treeline. "Well, you know what that means, don't you?"

"What does it mean?" Paolo noted the tip sank into the grassy field.

"Your girl is sharper than you are. Didn't I tell you to always check for bugs, too?"

"Yes, but this is Agency grounds. I figure we have people who sweep for bugs. Besides, who could sneak in here and plant them without us catching them?"

Raballo spun toward Paolo, his hand raised across his body, ready to backhand his former subordinate. "You are an idiot! And to think I fought for you to get this job. Have those three years out of SISME made you this stupid?!"

Three years or not, Paolo snapped to attention, eyes forward, mouth pressed tight.

"Think! Think! Remember, you always have to think! Always!" The captain lowered his arm, blow undealt. "All right. Think about it. You're right. We have a crew from Section One that scours this place for listening devices each month. And you're right, we have good perimeter security. Good, not great, but The Director hasn't seen fit to implement my suggestions." He sighed. "So how did the device get into both your dormitory and your girl's room?"

A cold realization crawled down Paolo's back. "If it's not one of them…"

"… then it's one of us." Raballo nodded. "That means we have an internal security problem. Keep it to yourself."

"I'm not that rusty, Captain. Standard information containment protocols. You'll notify the appropriate parties?"

Raballo answered by stalking back toward the cluster of buildings, leaving Paolo to wonder how much of his edge he lost.

Ξ§§§Ξ

The loading dock by the kitchen was a good place to meet. Concrete walls, driveway, and ceiling were plain and solid, so embedding any surveillance devices would be difficult to hide and ineffective if covered. The ventilation fan was always on, no matter if the kitchen was in use or not, masking even shotgun microphones. Finally, by keeping their faces pointed towards the boxed in wall, Paolo and Raballo were safe even from observation optics.

"Thanks for meeting me out here, Paolo." Raballo cupped his hand and whispered into his former subordinate's ear, then tilted his head to indicate Paolo should do the same.

"Of course, sir. Though, I had a hard time remembering that voicemail dropbox's password, I'll admit." Paolo finished whispering, turned and presented his ear to the captain.

"I'd normally chide you for getting sloppy, but there's no time for that. They probably expect me to tell you this even though they said not to."

_Tell me what, Captain?_  Paolo kept silent, nodded once and waited.

"You are under observation. That bug will be removed, but I am sure they'll plant two more in both your rooms, and in less obvious places." He paused. "By the way, good job teaching your girl how to search a room – taking apart the lamp isn't something I'd expect one of them to think of."

Paolo nodded.

"Don't go looking for them. If you happen to come across one, leave it alone. Assume you're being observed at all times."

_So that's why we're whispering like schoolgirls_. Paolo nodded again, bidding Raballo to continue.

"I don't know why they're doing this. I don't think this is normal."

_Oh, I know why._

"But keep your nose clean and they'll probably stop once they see you're trustworthy. Probably."

Paolo had plenty to say, but not here, not now. He turned and whispered, "Thank you, Captain. Good night."

"Look at the good news. We don't have an internal security problem. Get some sleep."

That night, Paolo had a hard time sleeping.

Ξ§§§Ξ

The shoot house was relatively safe, he guessed. As part of his requested modifications, all the windows were boarded shut, so no one could spy on them from afar. As for the inside, a thorough sweep found nothing. Paolo could already hear Raballo, "That just means it is  _unlikely_  you're being bugged. There's no way to be sure you're  _not_  being bugged." The key objective was to make sure there were no cameras planted inside the structure. Audio bugs could be very small and hard to find. Cameras needed to be bigger, hence Paolo was comfortable there were no hidden cameras in the building.

Dina came skipping into the simulated one-bedroom house. "Why are all the windows shut, Signore Paolo?"

"Close the door and you'll see." After she did so, he switched off the lights and plunged the room into absolute darkness for a moment, then back on. "We're going to practice blind fighting."

"Okay, that sounds like fun."

He handed her a pen and notepad. On it he had written  _Talk normally, but pretend there's a bug in this room._

"Uh, okay. So, uh, what's the first thing to do?" She spoke haltingly while she scribbled on the paper.  _Should I look for it?_  In contrast to his draftsman-like block printing, her handwriting was curvy and tilted. The characters were legible, but to Paolo, they also hinted at a sense of whimsy

He shook his head. "Well, first we'll just do normal grappling." He held up the pad.  _Your room still has bugs in it. Don't look for them, leave them alone, and act natural._

She nodded. "Okay, ah, then what?" There was a short pause as she wrote, _Why?_

"Next, you'll wear a blindfold."  _They don't trust me. They think I left something out when I joined._

"How about you, Signore Paolo?"  _What?_

"Sometimes, both you and your opponents are blind. Other times, only you. It's important that you be able to deal with that." Now on a familiar topic, Paolo could rattle off answers easily and without distracting from his writing.  _My brother was a Padina leader. He's dead now. I killed him._

"Really?" She gasped. "Sorry, I mean… uh, really, you had to, uh, fight like that?"

_It's okay. I just wanted to tell you they don't trust me, and because of that, don't trust you._  As he wrote, he said, "Yes, and multiple people, too. There are other ways to be blinded – flashbang grenades, strobe lights, and smoke. We'll be going through all of them." He paused, then added on his paper,  _But I do._

Dina smiled. "Thank you, Signore Paolo," she said very softly as she rushed to embrace him.

Ξ§§§Ξ

Paolo switched off the strobe light and flexed his aching shoulder. It hurt, but he ground his teeth and prepared to continue. There was no way he was going to let Jean see him even with the slightest bit of injury. He wasn't going to let that man get the satisfaction.

Dina lowered her arms and rose from her crouch. "How did I do, Signore Paolo?"

"Excellent, Dina. The strobe and siren drill is one of the most disorienting scenarios, and you were great. I'm used to it, and you still got the better of me."

"Oh, I'm sorry Signore Paolo! Are you all right? I'm sorry if I hurt you!" She rushed to hug him.

"It's fine, it's fine, Dina. Look, I'm your teacher, right? Well, let me tell you a secret: every teacher wants his student to be better than him. I'm proud of you for beating me."

"Uh-huh!" She grinned widely and her head bounced as she nodded happily.

Wordlessly, he stood there, smiling and with a lighter heart, sharing in her joy.

Eventually, she stopped and looked up at him with those deep and expressive brown eyes. "What are we going to do next, Signore Paolo?"

He held up a can, one slightly larger than a household aerosol can. "This is a smoke grenade. Not only will it make it impossible to see, it will also make it very hard to breathe. The two most important things to know are to not touch it – these things burn at a very high temperature, so even brushing against one will burn you. The other thing is to get down. The smoke won't be as thick, so you'll have both better air, and a better view of the surroundings."

She nodded, eyes wide.

"When you're down there, look for feet and knock them down. Take a big gulp of air so you can rise from the floor and take them out. Got it?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Okay, I'm going to pop smoke and throw it in the corner. That way, we don't have to worry about coming into contact with it." He looked at her intently. "Are you ready?"

She backed away and dropped to a low combat crouch.

He shook his head. "Remember what I said? As low as you can."

She threw herself prone, then turned her head so she could wink at him.

Paolo pulled the pin and threw the can. The lever clattered madly on the cement floor while the grenade gave a sharp pop, an angry hiss, then a continuous whoosh as grey smoke billowed out.

Paolo dropped to the floor and searched for her.

Instead of her prone form crawling at him as he expected, he instead saw her red boots staggering wildly, backing into a corner.

"What are you doing? Remember what I told you! Get down!"

"Signore Paolo! Signore Paolo!" She cried out, coughing as she did.

Taking a huge lungful of air, he stood and rushed to the sound of her cries. Through the billowing smoke he could barely see her.

She was backed into the corner, hands pressed against the two walls, feet trying to press her further into the corner. At his touch, she stopped crying for him, but was still trembling.

He wrapped his arm around her and guided her toward the door. He tried the handle, but heard an angry buzz and saw the barest hint of a red flashing light.

_Of course! The safety lock!_  While the shoot house was in use, the door would be locked until the exercise was completed. In the event of an emergency, one could punch in a simple override code on the keypad to override the lock.

That is, if one could even see the keypad. Paolo knelt and groped for the unit.  _1, 2, 3, 4._  He just had to feel for the buttons.

Before he knew it, he was lying on the cement outside, Dina beside him. He looked at the shoot house. The door, hanging on one hinge, toppled at that moment.

 


	11. Training Chapter 5: Little Litanies

**_Training_  Chapter 5: Little Litanies**

The door to the walk-in freezer opened, and Dina flinched. As she dreaded, the man in the biohazard suit and gas mask entered. Her fear slowed the moment – she looked at his right hand; it was empty. His body stepped through the door, lurching unsteadily in the oversized suit. Left foot, right foot. She inhaled, gasped really. His left hand entered the room, and it carried the pail.

The man stood in front of her. She tried to look at his mask, see who was behind the tinted circles, but her body, her instincts instead bent her into a small ball in the corner.

His body started to turn, just like it did too many times before. She clenched her eyes shut as the ice-cold water shocked her, caused her muscles, both meat and myomer, to contract to the point of agony. The black robe that gave her scant modesty was light and soaked. It gave no warmth.

The initial scorching sensation quickly gave way to the sledgehammer ache as the frost seeped into her bones.

As he left, plunging the freezer into darkness, she could only shiver.

Ξ§§§Ξ

Paolo looked away from the monitor, his stomach turning.  _How could they?_

As if reading his mind, Doctor Belissaro cleared his throat. "While we have not ever had a cyborg been taken prisoner for any extended period, they do suffer extensive injuries in the course of their duties. You may think this cruel, but it is the best way we can think of to simulate the pain of multiple moderate injuries without actually inflicting them on the cyborgs."

His mouth too dry to speak, his throat too sour to even form words, Paolo glared at the bald man.

"We enhance the endocrine system as part of the conversion process. These cyborgs…"

_Dina is a girl, damn you!_   _They're all just girls!_ Paolo's eyes grew harder each time he heard that word.

"… are capable of secreting endorphins at an inhuman rate, but they need to be exposed to extreme discomfort so they can develop the autonomous response to trigger the release."

His voice honed to an edge, Paolo asked, "So how long will this take?"

"It's up to her."

The door to the observation room opened, and the man in the biohazard suit entered. He took off his gas mask.

_And you, Captain. I can't imagine doing this, but you didn't even pause.  
_

As he shed the outer layer, Raballo said, "It's tough to watch. I know. We all have to. It's our job to send them into dangerous situations, and they  _will_  get injured. In the field, we can't let that distract us from the mission."

" _You_  did this? To Claes?" The thought of that quiet and owlish pre-teen being reduced to a shivering mass enraged Paolo even more.

"Yes. And they said I had to watch, so I watched. I won't lie to you; it ate at my soul, too. Listen, Paolo. We all have the instinct to protect the young, even if it's not our own children. I've read it is common in all mammals. A child is a member of the next generation, and to protect them is to protect our future."

Unsteadily, he stepped out of the oversized rubber boots, his hand grasping the doorjamb for support.

"But," he said with a heavy sigh, "you have to stop thinking of them as children. They are weapons, and they have to honed and tempered."

Paolo looked into his eyes. Years of working together gave him the experience to tell when the captain was speaking his own feelings, or saying what was required of him to say.

For the first time, Paolo couldn't tell.

From his laptop Belissaro cleared his throat. "It's time to change modes. The infrared thermometer shows her core temperature approaching the lower limit."

A long and heavy breath escaped Paolo, one he didn't know he was holding.

Ξ§§§Ξ

After the short, but too long a walk to the freezer, Paolo's heart pounded. The opened door splashed a deformed rectangle of light, one corner pointing at the huddled ball in a corner.

"Dina?"

"Oh, Signore Paolo!" She leapt up and raced into Paolo's half-open arms. If she hadn't hugged him so securely, he would have been upended by her impact, but she kept him upright. Fifty kilos of girl was a strange, yet comforting anchor, thought Paolo.

"Are you all right, Dina?" She was pale, so pale. Her lips were an inhuman shade of violet.

"Yes, Sig… Signore." She sniffled. He wasn't sure if it was from the cold or tears.

Belissaro surprised Paolo by producing a towel and another robe, this one thick and full. "Dry yourself and change your robe."

The speed in which she doffed the soaked robe shocked Paolo. He looked away as she toweled herself off, then donned the newer robe.

Belissaro looked at him, a slightly surprised light in his eye. "As her handler, you'll need to get used to that."

_I hope not!_  Mentally, Paolo made the sign of the cross. Twice.

They walked to another room in the basement of the Medical Wing. This one was tiled, with a drain in the center. An inclined table came out from one wall, pointing at the drain.

Paolo recognized the purpose of the room, and his heart seized.

"Dina, I want you lay on the table, head over here." Belissaro patted the lowered end. "Raballo? Hold her left arm. Yes, the elbow and shoulder, just like that. All right, Di Tomaso? Same thing, right arm."

Bile filling his mouth, Paolo did so. He noted that Raballo moved quickly, efficiently. This was familiar to him, Paolo realized. Of course.  _He had to do this to Claes, too._  By this time, Paolo was glad he skipped breakfast.

"Now, Dina? I need you to not move. Raballo and Di Tomaso are holding onto you only to remind you. The point here is to not move."

No longer shivering, Dina smiled brightly at the doctor. "Got it! Don't move." She looked at Paolo. "I won't, promise. I'll make you proud of me."

Unable to speak, and steeling his gaze in hopes of not showing the welling tears he felt, Paolo could only nod.

As he dreaded, the doctor laid a plain white cloth over her face, then went to the sink and started filling a bucket. Satisfied she couldn't see, Paolo let one tear escape down along the left side of his nose. Under the cotton weave, he saw her mouth moving, but the water's rush blocked his hearing her words.

The bucket full, Belissaro turned off the spigot. The room seemed to echo with her soft whisper, "I won't move, I'll make him proud. I won't move, I'll make him proud."

In a dark way, her gasp when the doctor drenched the fabric was a mercy, a respite from her show of devotion that crushed Paolo's heart a little each time.

She gasped, and her body arched. Paolo bore down on the terry-cloth wrapped arm, but it didn't move. Slowly, the body lowered. The towel turned translucent, and he could see her mouth struggling for the air that the water-laden cloth denied her. It opened and closed rapidly, and Paolo noticed it wasn't the gaping attempts to inhale like what he himself endured during Resistance training.

No, she was still mouthing her mantra. However silent the room, in his mind, her soft, cooing voice reached out to him. "…won't move, I'll make him proud."

The wall above the sink presented a clock, a large, old analog clock with a red needle sweeping away the seconds. A minute, then two. An agonizing ten seconds. Another. All this time, she did not move, save the fluttering of the sodden rag as she mouthed her mantra.

At three minutes, Belissaro lifted the rag. Dina's gasped, panted, then looked at Paolo. "I didn't move! You're proud of me, right?"

Paolo nodded. He had no words.

Ξ§§§Ξ

The three men sat in their chairs in the monitoring room. Paolo looked at display from the infrared camera. Again, in the corner of the freezer was curled a small figure.

"I never saw that reaction before." Belissaro repeated.

"Waterboarding? Really? Waterboarding a ten-year old  _girl_?" Paolo was livid. His ears burned, the vein in his neck felt like it was about to burst.

"It's an instinctive fear response. We all have a fear of drowning. It's genetic." The doctor couldn't meet Paolo's eyes and instead stared at another display.

"And the point of this? What is your godforsaken reason this time?"

At this, Belissaro finally turned to him and held up three fingers, then folded each as he recited, "Epinephrine, norepinephrine and cortisol. The exercise was meant to cause her to secrete those three hormones. The parts of the endocrine system in her body has been augmented, but we didn't touch the pituitary gland, nor did we modify the amygdala." He tapped his temple.

After taking in Paolo's blank look, the doctor continued. "Fear. Fight or flight. Her body is capable of incredible feats of strength, but she needs to learn to control it. We need to flood her body, her mind with epinephrine." He sighed. "Adrenaline. Same thing. We need to teach her to think clearly in the middle of a storm of hormones. If she doesn't, she'll be as dangerous to us as she is to them."

Raballo's cell phone chimed. He sighed and started putting on the thick rubber suit again.

"No, let me go." Paolo headed for the door.

"That breaks the protocol."

"She's my girl. If anyone is going to do that to her, it should be me." His teeth were so clenched they felt fused into one.

Raballo sighed again and started undoing the zipper to the lower half of the suit. "Let him go, Doctor. Trust me, when he's like that, there's little you can do to stop him."

"All right. Di Tomaso, you know where the bucket is, right?"

"The waterboarding room. I can find my way."

As he closed the door, Paolo heard Belissaro talking to himself. "Never saw that before. This  _always_  works to trigger a fear response."

He thought back to the shoothouse and smiled. His illicit joy at keeping Dina's secret fear from the doctor was short-lived. It sputtered away as he started filling the bucket. With heavy heart, he walked back to the walk-in freezer.

"Oh! Signore Paolo! Can I come out now?" Her eyes suddenly blazed with hope, but then grew wide with terror as he walked in, carrying the bucket.

"No, Dina. It's time to get splashed again. I'm sorry."

"It's… it's okay, Signore Paolo. I'm just g-g-glad it's you."

He closed the door, and in the darkness said, "Come here, Dina. Give me a hug. Follow my voice."

He was rewarded with shivering arms wrapping around his torso.

"Ready, Dina?"

Her face, buried into his chest, nodded once.

With both arms, he raised the bucket over his head and upended it onto the both of them.

 


	12. Training's Epilogue

**_Training's_  Epilogue**

Priscilla, her arms laden with the latest intercepts approached Director Lorenzo's office, only to find Dina standing in front of the closed door. She was picking at the hem of her black velvet skirt which descended to just above where her red overshoes-like boots ended. A scab showed in the narrow strip of exposed flesh on her left knee.

"Hello, Priscilla!" Dina turned and smiled. "Let me help you with those!"

"It's all right dear. They're very sensitive."

The little girl stopped and tilted her head slightly to one side. "They ... bruise easily?"

At that, Priscilla gave a small giggle. "No, Dina. They're secret."

"Ohhhh." Dina nodded with the innocent wisdom of youth. "I can keep secrets."

Priscilla squatted so they were eye-to-eye. "All right, let me tell you one." She then leaned into the younger girl's ear and whispered, "I wanted to be a writer when I was your age. I wanted to write love stories." Then she straightened. "Can you keep that a secret?"

"Uh-huh!" She nodded enthusiastically and smiled.

The intelligence analyst smiled back and entered the Director's office. Shortly she exited, her arms empty. "Dina, what do you say we take a walk? Paolo said it was all right."

"Sure! He and Signore Jean are sure taking a while."

Priscilla held out her hand. "Well, they're talking with Director Lorenzo about your first mission. Are you excited?"

"Yay!" She skipped a few steps, then slowed. "I was thinking, Priscilla. I should tell you a secret, too. That way, we both have a secret to keep."

"Oh, Dina. I have far too many weighing me down."

The girl looked downcast. "I wasn't trying to make you work harder, Priscilla." She looked at her boots as they advanced slowly down the hall. "When you told me your secret, it made me really, really, really happy. I just wanted to do the same back."

Priscilla stopped to hug her. "I'm so sorry, dear. You're right. Some secrets can lift the soul, can't they? Around here, there are so many that are just," she looked at the little girl and thought back to her mentor at their high school. "They just kill your spirit, little by little."

"Am I one, Priscilla?"

"One what?"

"One of the bad secrets? I know I'm a secret, but what kind am I, good or bad?"

Priscilla knelt on one knee and regarded her with gravity. "You are not just a good secret, you're one of the best ones."

Dina smiled again, one of those smiles that melted Priscilla's heart. "I was scared I was one of your bad secrets. You're always so nice to me, I didn't want to be a bad secret."

"Trust me. You aren't, dear." She wrapped her arms around the petite girl. "You're a great secret to have."

"So," Dina pushed back slightly so she could look at Priscilla with those deep and innocent eyes. "If I'm a good secret, does that mean you want to hear the one I was going to tell you? I thought really hard about it. I wanted it to be a good one. An especially good one."

"All right, Dina. I'd very much want to hear your secret, and I promise to keep it in my heart forever. And longer." She giggled, and was soon joined by Dina.

When Priscilla could speak again, Dina took a deep breath and said, "I want to grow up to be like you and Signore Paolo. You are both always helping people, and I want to grow up to help people, too. I want to make him proud of me for helping someone. Signore Paolo must have someone in his life like your friend Favianne, someone that helped him grow up and want to help me. I'm lucky to have him, just like you're lucky to have Favianne, and someday I want someday help someone just like ... Priscilla, why are you crying?"

 


	13. First Mission Chapter 1: Goal

**_First Mission_  Chapter 1: Goal**

Surveillance vans varied on the outside, but the inside invariably was the same. Optics, recording devices, communication gear, and too few seats. Around the seated Dina, her hands folded timidly in her lap, Priscilla and Paolo stood, along with a young woman, her short black hair in perfect bob cut, and her face set in a perpetual frown. Every eye in the crowded van looked expectantly at her.

"All right, Dina. One more time. What's your objective?"

"There is a small box stuck to the museum manager's desk. Get it."

"Which manager? There are many in the  _Musei Capitolini_."

"Ah, the collections manager?"

Paolo let out a quiet and long-delayed breath.

"That's right. And where is her office?"

Dina took a deep breath and looked away from the uniformed woman. "Go to the  _Palazzo dei Conservatori_  part of the museum, turn left, go up the stairs to the third floor, go through the glass doors, then turn left at the second room, look for the door to the right in the hallway, right?"

The woman nodded. "And then what?"

"Put it in my school bag, then come back here."

"Good. Do you have any questions?"

"No, Signorina Ferro."

"All right, good luck."

"Thank you!" She gave Ferro a smile, never caring that it wasn't given back. Dina gave Priscilla a hug, then stood straight and gave a salute to Paolo. "I'll make you proud, Signore Paolo!"

Ξ§§§Ξ

As planned, the museum overflowed with busloads of schoolchildren. For whatever reason, elementary, lower secondary, and upper secondary schools all scheduled field trips today. Dina wandered up the stairs, her eyes drinking in the ancient marble, the ornate friezes, and the bas reliefs that composed the stairwells. Other children brushed past her, chattering, giggling. A sense of awe, of timelessness held her as if in amber, and her languid, distracted pace echoed the wonder that blazed in her mind.

Too short, too short a time passed, and she found herself in the narrow exhibit hall leading to the office. She entered the first pair of doors, and found the room deserted. She searched the desk, found the device. It was larger than the bug she discovered in her room, almost the size of her mobile. A small twist, a tiny tug, and it was free of the sticky-backed tape holding it under the lower right-hand drawer. It went into her bag, and she straightened.

"Excuse me, what are you doing here?"

Dina turned around and looked at the speaker, a lady with her light brown hair worked into a bun. She wore the pinstriped dark brown business skirt-suit very well, very assertively. Her heels added some height, and she stood both tall and steady, her arched eyebrow adding to an already-overwhelming presence and authority.

"I said, what are you doing here?"

"Uh, I was told this was the way to the, uh, washroom?"

Her mouth twitched. "No, that's down the stairs in the gift shop. Now, out."

"Yes, signora." Dina gave the purse-lipped woman the brightest smile she could.

"That's signor _ina_. Signorina Fontana. I work here. You don't. Out."

As soon as she exited, the woman slammed the doors.

Dina turned to either side. She knew the way out, but wanted to take in the artistry one last time. Without realizing it, she was drawn to a painting between the two sets of doors on the wall opposite. Pietro Faccini's  _Mystical Marriage of Saint Catherine_ , the card read. Dina's eyes were first drawn to redheaded woman carrying an infant in one hand held a blond woman's hand in her other. They each wore dresses matching their hair – the first one a muted mauve, the other a dirty gold. In the foreground sat a man, powerfully built, bearded and balding, clad only in a brown wrap from his waist to his feet. Way in the back was a blond child, only his head visible behind the women's clasped hands.

"Gina!" A girl cried, breaking the solemnity of the moment. Dina looked down and took a breath to try to recapture that calm, that image of a budding flower's petals revealing some blinding light.

"Gina? Is that you?" A hand timidly tugged at her sleeve. Dina looked up, and stared into the eyes of a dark-haired girl about her age, eyes nervous while a smile graced her mouth.

"It  _is_  you! Oh, this is great!"

Dina nodded, unsure what to say, what to do.

"Don't you remember me? Maria? Maria D'Acampo? We used to live next to each other in the apartments by the rail station?"

"Uh, Maria?" Dina blinked and tried to remember what they said to do in this situation.

"See? You  _do_  remember me!" The taller girl hugged her. "Wow! That school must have really fed you! I use to be able to lift you up all the time!"

"Okay. Uh, how are you?"  _Make it a game of "Let's Pretend."_  That's what Priscilla said to do.  _Just play along_.

"Oh, we're great! Thanks to your mom, we were able to move out of government housing. It's a lot smaller, and I have to share a room with my sisters, but it's so much better!"

The door opened, and Signorina Fontana walked out. "Ladies, this is a museum. Now, let's try to be quieter, shall we?"

"Yes, signorina." Dina was surprised at how polite the older woman's tone became. She turned back to Maria. "So, ah, where do you live now?"

"It's an apartment in Esquilino. The school there is better, too." Maria whirled around, showing her orange kerchief tied around her neck. "What school are you with?"

"Oh, I'm here on a trip with," Dina remembered the display card next to the painting. "Saint Catherine's Academy."

"Oh? That's a very prestigious school." Signorina Fontana hadn't left, and instead started walking over. She smiled at Dina. Smiled!

Dina nodded, and used it as an excuse to break free of the prim lady's gaze.

"See this painting? It's the  _Mystical Marriage of Saint Catherine_. This," Fontana said, pointing to the woman in red, "Is Saint Catherine holding the baby Jesus. This," she continued, indicating the blond woman, "Is the Virgin Mary, and this," she pointed to the seated man, "Is the Christ, whom Saint Catherine is marrying. Now, there are two Saint Catherines, one is Saint Catherine of Alexandria and the other is Saint Catherine of Siena. Do either of you know which one this is?"

Maria blinked and looked confused.

Dina blurted out, "Saint Catherine of Siena dresses like a nun, so this one is Saint Catherine of Alexandria, right?"  _How did I know that?_

Fontana smiled even wider. "I'm sorry, that was a trick question. You  _are_  right, uh…"

Dina took a quick glance at the other little girl. "I'm Gina, and this is Maria. We used to live next door to each other."

With a nod the collections manager continued. "You are right, Gina. Normally, Saint Catherine of Siena wears the habit of a Dominican nun, and Saint Catherine of Alexandria wears a crown, but this painting was done before those conventions came into being. So, we really don't know which one this is."

Dina didn't know whether she was being praised for being correct about Saint Catherine of Siena, or being corrected for not knowing the difference. It made her uneasy, and she wanted to change the topic. "But, isn't that the Baby Jesus? If that's the Baby Jesus, then how can that be The Christ?"

Signorina Fontana's laugh surprised Dina. "That's the mystery of the Trinity, dear. And see this face?" She pointed at the blond child. "That's the Holy Spirit, so all three aspects of God are in this painting."

Not quite understanding, Dina nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, Dina noticed Maria fidgeting with her mobile, growing slightly more frustrated over time.

"Oh, that's not going to work here. Besides, this is a museum. Think of it as a … as a church, someplace sacred. Hand over your mobiles, please."

The manager's tone was now so familiar, so kind, that Dina found her phone in her hand before she realized. In an instant, Signorina Fontana had turned them off. As she handed them back, she said, "I'm sure you'll find your time here much more enlightening without those distractions."

Unsure what to do, Dina put the phone back in her jacket pocket, planning to turn it back on at first opportunity. However, that was not in the near future as Signorina Fontana herded them into the next galley and proceeded to give them a tour.

She turned out to be quite personable, and patient, even welcoming, of the girl's questions. Timid as they were at first, they soon grew to respond to her prompting questions as she engaged them in the journey. With her vast knowledge, she recounted anecdotes for each item, some funny, others perplexing, and more than a few that showed the humanity behind the art.

As the sun started to shine through the windows, Dina risked a question dwelling on her mind this whole time. "Signorina Fontana? I am very grateful for all this, but … why were you so mean to me earlier?"

The collections manager paused and took in a breath. "I think this is hard for you young ladies to understand, but we stand at a time of change. Italy is split between those who lead, and those who are millstones." As she spoke, she looked into the sun, taking strength from the blinding light. "I made a mistake, and I am sorry for it, Gina. When I saw you, I thought you were one of the millstones. See, many schools think that by dragging their students here, they will somehow make them true Italians. I've seen them, hundreds of them. They walk through, and are trained well enough not to desecrate these works, but they don't truly understand them. They'll never be the leaders we need."

She turned to regard Dina and Maria. "Gina, when I came out and saw you attended Saint Catherine's, I realize my error. I wanted to apologize, but when I saw how much you knew about the  _Mystical Marriage_ , I felt an apology was only the start. You and your friend are our country's future, and I wanted to help share our heritage with you. I  _am_  sorry, but I hope I proved it more than just saying it."

The words flowed over Dina much of the meaning lost, but the lady's passion and fervor swelled in her heart. Dina nodded and said, "Signorina Fontana, that's my dream, too. I want to help make Italy great again."

Fontana hugged them both. "Then my time was well-spent. Gina, I hope to see you in my office again. There's so much more of the  _Musei Capitolini_  to see."

Maria cleared her throat, a timid and respectful murmur. "Uh, Signorina? If we could … does your office have a phone? I need to call my mother to pick me up soon."

The older lady laughed, not mocking, but one that was warm and shared. "Of course. I admire you as well, Maria. Government housing is like quicksand. So many people fall into it and don't want to better themselves. I heard you talk about your family's sacrifice to move out, and I see great things in your future, too."

Maria blushed and half-whispered her gratitude, so abashed was she at Fontana's show of admiration. With an audible sigh, she followed as the manager led back through the many halls and galleys to her office.

The phone call was simple at first, but when Maria mentioned Gina, the receiver burst with delighted squawks and rapid-fire commands. Dina was too far to clearly hear it, especially with the earpiece pressed against Maria's ear, but she could tell Maria's mother was excited. For her part, Maria was nodding vigorously even though her mother was not able to see it.

Finally, when at last her mother relented, Maria said, "I promise. I love you mama," and gently replaced the handset on the antique cradle.

"Gina? Mama said that you have to come have dinner at our house. She said that's what your mother would have wanted."

 


	14. First Mission Chapter 2: Gift

**_First Mission_  Chapter 2: Gift**

"Should we head in? It's been too long."

Ferro turned from the banks of video monitors. "There is no  _we_ , Paolo. She's  _your_  cyborg, and this is  _your_  mission. So tell me, what are  _you_  going to do?"

"Maybe, uh, she is just, uh, taking in the museum? I mean, the girls can be pretty disoriented when they first go out in the field." Priscilla smiled in her nervousness, so forced and wide it creased her eyes closed. All the better to avoid Ferro's hawk-like glare.

Paolo swallowed and took the other approach. "I'm going to go in." He looked at his phone, at the repeating rows in the call history. "I think this is my fault. We didn't go over what to do well enough. She must be in trouble."

As he closed the back door, the van started up. Paolo rushed up to driver and pounded on the door. Amadeo gave an apologetic look and rolled down the window. "Uh, it was her-"

Ferro leaned through the curtain between the seats, the one shielding the surveillance gear from stray glances. "We're heading back."

"But-"

"I'm sure you can handle it. And, when you're on a real job, you won't have us to fall back on. Get used to it, and be thankful it's a small and safe situation."

"Yes, Ferro. I'll get it fixed."

"See to it. Amadeo."

With a half-hearted wave, Amadeo put the vehicle in gear.

Paolo nodded and turned around, sizing up the  _Musei Capitolini_  with sigh.

He started with the collections manager's office. The door gave way to his lockpicks with but a minute's protest. The office was deserted, and a quick search showed him the sticky residue where the bug used to sit. Quickly, he backed out and re-locked the door, then started a slow room-by-room sweep of the floor.

Years in the field honed a sixth sense, a hunch that was undefinable, indescribable, and infrequent, but almost unerringly accurate. Just after exiting a gallery, he felt the urge to re-examine it. A more detailed sweep rewarded him with nothing more.

As he turned away, through the nearest window, he spied Dina and another girl getting into a car.

Ξ§§§Ξ

"…a blue Audi. Plate was BE 027-something. Left the museum two minutes ago, headed east."

"Two minutes is a large head start, Paolo. That's a lot of traffic cameras to look at."

"It took me this long to get signal on my phone." Paolo looked around. The alley was deserted.

"Yes, the museum has cell jammers installed. Many cultural sites have them now."

"It would have helped to know that, Priscilla!"

There was a pause on the phone, some shuffling noises. When Priscilla spoke again, her voice was hushed. "It wasn't my idea. They wanted to see how you would handle it. That's why we had to fetch the bug - it's a voice-activated recorder. We couldn't get a transmitter to work."

Paolo thought back to his cell phone and the single number showing again and again on the call record. "Well, that explains why she wasn't picking up before. But, she's still not picking up."

"Lots of Audis. And we're missing a lot of digits. I have … fifteen matches, so I'll have to do some more analysis to find a usable one."

"I didn't get a good look at the driver. He had dark hair, almost black. So did the other girl."

"Well they're likely immigrants. That means they're  _probably_  not the Padina. Probably." Priscilla hummed a soft and low monotone.

Paolo could almost imagine her tongue slightly between her teeth, not quite protruding past her lips. Both were signs the pretty intelligence analyst was deep in thought. He knew better than to interrupt her.

After far too long a silence, she said, "I narrowed it down to three. I'll send you the addresses."

She rang off. Priscilla's very formidable in her element, he thought. Memories of her intensity as she explained the realities of his new life edged into his memory. He shuddered at the thought of her truly angry.

Ξ§§§Ξ

Maria mother, Rosalina, was overjoyed to see Dina. Upon seeing the girls, she gave each a hug and a kiss, with Dina and Maria equal in her eyes. However, during the car ride to their home, Rosalina's attention was split between soothing the crying baby Leona in the car seat beside her and quizzing Maria about her visit for school. Dina sat in an uneasy silence, trying to think of what answers she might need to know to continue this game of pretend.

Once they parked the car, Leona started wailing. Rosalina tried gently jostling the baby carrier, making faces, and cooing at her, all having no success. All the way to the walk-up, Maria and her mother focused solely on baby Leona.

_At least I don't have to answer questions_ , Dina thought.

That ended as soon as they entered the cramped, but neat apartment. Sofrina, Maria's older sister, took over caring for Leona. In-between commanding Maria and her brother, Alfonse, to ready the table for dinner, the dreaded questions began.

"So, Gina, have you heard from your mother while you were away at school?"

"Uh, no. I, ah, I'm at a special school, and we don't get many visitors."

"Oh, the school you're at now? Alfonse, use the good dishes!"

"Yes, it's… it's really small." Dina paused. "It's for, uh, kinda special kids."

As if aware of her discomfort, Rosalina said, "So it's only temporary?"

"Uh… I think so."

"I mean, It's only while you recover from the accident."

Dina nodded. Her thumb and forefinger rubbed together, sandwiching a piece of her hem.

Rosalina nodded, then focused on finishing the dinner Sofrina started before they entered.

When dinner was finally announced, Dina arose from the sofa where she kept herself out of the way. The table was cozy, and Sofrina sat on folding chair so Dina had a seat. She picked up her fork, but Rosalina smiled and held out her hand. "First, grace. We have a lot to be grateful for."

"Dear God, we're grateful for Gina joining us. We're grateful to her mother for helping us get this flat, and all the other things she did. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Signora Pacelli. Please guard her and watch over her, wherever she is. Please bless the food and guide us in your light. In Jesus' name we pray, amen."

As everyone raised their heads and lowered their hands, Rosalina caught Dina's eye. "Oh, Gina. I'm sorry for forgetting. Leona and dinner and all that. Your mother left a letter with you."

 


	15. First Mission Chapter 3: Geist

**_First Mission_  Chapter 3: Geist**

Dinner at the D'Acampo home was very plain. Dina missed the quiet dining hall back at the Agency. Dinner was a beef and beet stew with cabbage and rice. It was greasy, it was overly salted, and it was over-cooked so everything was too soft. Sofrina silently apologized almost every time Dina took a spoon to her mouth.

Maria kept stealing glances at Dina, as if expecting her to speak. Bettina and Ambra, the other two daughters, openly stared at Dina with the unabashed innocence only found in preschoolers.

Rosalina filled the table with words to ward off the encroaching silence. "Did I tell you that your mother helped us move here? When they broke into my car, she started looking for a new place for us. She found this flat. It's so beautiful. 'But Signora Pacelli,' I said, 'Why not move you there yourself?' Do you know what she said?"

Dina shook her head.

"She said, 'You have the bambino to think of.' She said that you and she were able to live there just fine, even with the train whistles way past midnight. 'Think of the bambino,' she said." Just then, Leona started crying again. Rosalina set down her meal and started fixing a bottle for the little baby. "So, imagine how surprised I was to receive a letter here, from her. I thought you were moving to another city."

"No, I was just …" Dina looked at Maria, who quickly looked away. "I was at school."

"Yes, Saint Catherine's of Siena Academy. It was a strange letter. She had another letter for you, all ready to be sent to your school. She said that I was to wait three months, and, if I hadn't heard from her again, to mail it." Leona was quieted, so Rosalina took her seat next to Dina again. "You haven't heard from her, have you?"

"Mother? Uh, no. I haven't heard from her since before the, uh, accident."

Rosalina gave her a sympathetic smile. "You poor dear. I was so worried for you. I mailed it, and the school sent it back, with a note that you were in a fire. I tried looking for you in every hospital I could think of but no one knew where you were. I prayed every night for you and your mother. Well," Rosalina smiled at Maria. "I have one less thing to pray for, and one more thing to give thanks for."

Dina took another spoonful so she didn't have to speak, but found the bowl empty. "Uh, may I have another bowl?"

From the cramped corner of the table, Sofrina gave a soft, delighted cry.

Ξ§§§Ξ

Rosalina led Dina into her bedroom, which also served as her office. A small desk sat in the corner, an ancient computer occupying far more of its meager space than the ones with which Dina was familiar. Next to it was a toy bin.

Rosalina carefully sorted through a pile of paper and envelopes on top of the cube-like monitor and extracted the envelope, sealed addressed, stamped and canceled. Dina took it, though her eyes never left the toy box.

"Oh, our bedroom is too small with the bunk beds, so this is where the toys go." Maria held up a doll. "Do you want to play?"

Dina found her hands busy, one holding the envelope, the other a doll in a princess gown.

"Maria, don't distract her. Now, Dina, do you have a safe place for it?"

Dina handed the doll back to the other girl and walked into the living room. She returned with her schoolbag and carefully slid the letter into the zippered pocket built into the flap.

"Maria, your homework all done?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Dina, we still have half an hour before your chaperone picks you up, right?"

Dina blinked twice, then nodded quickly.

"All right, why don't you two girls play until then."

Just then, Leona started wailing again, so Rosalina dashed off.

Maria looked stricken. "I forgot that part. About telling your teacher or chaperone. Mama said to have you ask and…" She blinked from the tears welling.

"It's okay. It's okay. When we're done here, I'll just call him."

Dina set the bag down and placed a hand on Maria's shoulder, which calmed the trembling.

Maria smiled weakly, then handed Dina the doll she was clutching.

Dina tilted her head to one side and looked at it, slightly puzzled.

"Don't you have dolls, Gina?"

"Uh, I do, but…" Dina thought back to the burst of elation when Paolo surprised her by filling her top bookshelf with those beautiful dolls with intricate hair styles and looming, unblinking eyes. Then, she remembered that uneasy hollowness, that unease she felt just looking at them. She liked them because Paolo gave them to her, and she liked them because the books and videos showed other girls liking them, but …

"You don't play with them?" Maria picked up a brush and started combing the slightly tangled blond tresses of the doll she was holding. "Did someone say you were too old or something?"

"No, it's not that." Lacking a brush, Dina dragged a finger through the doll in her arms. This one was newer, and the hair parted easily.

"Uh, is it …" Maria looked away. A blush reddened her cheeks.

"What is it, Maria?"

"Well, Mama said your mom and you seemed out of place. I mean, where we lived by the trains. She said you both were too nice, too … well, seemed too rich to be living there."

Dina tried to imagine what Gina would say. A denial? A make-believe story? "I don't think so. We just lived there, I guess. But why did you say that?"

Maria sighed. "Are these dolls too ugly, or too cheap? I mean, if your family was rich, you'd have prettier dolls, right?"

"Oh, it's not that. I just like teddy bears more."  _Why did I say that?_

With a relieve smile, Maria asked, "How many do you have? How big? They must be so soft and beautiful!"

"Well, actually, I don't have any. I have a few dolls, though." Dina looked at her shoes. "I don't play with them."

"Oh, let me show you how!"

Ξ§§§Ξ

_Of course it would be the last one_. Paolo looked at the beige building. It was cramped, hemmed in by identical siblings. This suburb of Rome was middle-class, but the laundry hanging on the fire escapes, the children's bedsheets doubling as curtains all said the occupants were not of the same economic strata as their neighbors.

The cab drove away. Alone in a pool of a streetlight's blare, he reached into his jacket. First, to ensure his pistol's safety was off. Second to run his finger along the side of the firing chamber, to feel the slight burr of the chambered round indicator. Third, his hand came out with his cell phone, so anyone watching would see a normal motion.

With both concern and annoyance, he tabbed through the outgoing call record. A dozen or so calls to the same number, all unanswered.

He pressed the buzzer, and a few seconds later, a static-laden " _Pronto_ " greeted him, with a baby's muted wail in the background. "Uh, I'm looking for a little girl named Dina."

"Ah, yes! Gina is here. Are you from the school?" Every other word was accented with clicks and buzzes, but Paolo spent enough time listening to bugs to make it out.

_Gina?_  Paolo smiled.  _Smart girl, giving an alias._  "Yes, I'm here to pick her up."  _Where did I hear that name before?_

The door rattled with an even louder buzz.

Ξ§§§Ξ

Once in the cab, Paolo was furious. "Why didn't you answer my calls?"

Dina tried to press herself into the opposite corner of the rear seat. "I'm sorry, Signore Paolo! I'm sorry! The phone didn't ring!"

Paolo grabbed for the school bag, but Dina's trembling hand was a vise. "Dina, let go. Now."

Instantly, her hand flashed to her cheek, smearing the tears.

He dug through the bag, retrieved the phone and held it centimeters from her eyes. "It's off. Why is it off?"

"I don't know! I don't know! Please, Signore Paolo!" Her hands flew to her ears, then her hair. Locks came off easily, the ends bloody.

His eyes wide, Paolo checked himself. He reached over and hugged her, but it was like hugging a statute - unyielding and solid. "I was just so worried for you, that's all." He felt her tears soak through his sport coat.

"I didn't know what to do - she said she knew me, and I didn't want everybody looking at me, so I didn't fight her."

"Good girl. Rule Two, right?"

The recited together, "Once you draw attention to yourself, you lost your biggest advantage."

"Uh, I got the tape recorder thing. It's in my bag, too."

"Good girl. But, that's not as important as you being safe. I was worried about you. I saw you get into that blue car, and -"

"Oh, Maria, the girl who said she knew me? That's her mama's car. She's very nice."

Paolo thought back to pleasant-faced, but harried-looking woman. "She fed you dinner?"

"Yes, but it wasn't very good. I said it was, though. I figured that's what you would have said, so I said it."

Paolo gingerly touched the angry half-bare spots near her temple. "Yes, Dina. That's what I would have done."

Her cheeks still shiny with tears, Dina managed a wan smile. "Oh, and I remember now. The phone, I mean. It was off because the nice lady at the  _Musei_  turned it off for us before giving us that tour."

"Nice lady?"

"The collections manager? Signorina Fontana? You know, the one whose office had the tape recorder thing?"

Paolo drew back, surprised. "I'm … glad you were able to gain her trust. Did she say anything interesting?"

"Well, there were these two paintings done by-"

With his hand upraised, Paolo forced a smile. "I'm sorry, I should have asked, did she say anything interesting beside the artwork in the museum?"

"Not a lot. There was something about political stuff, but I didn't get it. She said Maria and I were going to be the future of Italy. What did she mean by that?"

"I don't know."

They rode in silence the rest of the way. As they pulled up to the gatehouse, Dina's eyes brightened. "Oh, Signore Paolo?"

"Yes?"

"Maria's mama gave me a letter."

"To you?"

"No, it's to Gina's mother, Favianne."

A cold breeze swept through Paolo as he remembered where he heard the name Gina before.

 


	16. First Mission Chapter 4: Grith

**_First Mission_  Chapter 4: Grith**

The debriefing session was long, and it was unpleasant. Ferro's permanent scowl seemed all the more intense. Director Lorenzo sat silently at the head of the table while Paolo answered increasingly acute questions from Jean, the handler Paolo first saw almost slapping his young charge.

"So you thought letting a cyborg run loose in the city was a good idea?"

"No, I tried to retrieve her as quickly as I could."

"If that's your quickest, your slowest must be something to see. You should have been on-site-"

"I  _was_  on-site."

Jean flicked his index finger against a file folder. "According to this, you were in the observation van. What good were you there? Do you even know what half that equipment does?"

"Actually, I did spent some time in signals analysis."

His tirade interrupted, Jean dismissed that counter with a wave. "No matter. The point is still the same - you should have been closer to your cyborg."

"The mission objective clearly stated this was a field test of her training."

"Did it say you had to be crammed into a vehicle?"

"No, but it-"

A smile slowly eased onto Jean's lips. "It just said she had to operate solo. You could have followed her. You should have been there, so when things went wrong, you could have stepped in to handle it. That's why you're called a  _handler_."

Paolo nodded. With Jean as the ranking handler on the team, trying to argue with him put Paolo at a disadvantage. Still, all was not lost.

Jean was reading the file, his eyes growing darker each page. "I see here your cyborg was spotted by someone from her past."

"Someone who  _thinks_  she knew Dina from before she was … inducted into the Agency."

"Did you know the recorder was still going? It's a voice-activated recorder,  _Agent_  Di Tomaso. It recorded everything that went on."

All-too-recent memories of that bit of electronics in his lamp edged into his consciousness. "I'm not surprised."  _In fact, I'm getting used to it_.

Ferro spoke. "That family  _did_  know Dina from before. We have a clean transcript here. It correlates with what we know about Dina's previous life with her mother and these neighbors."

Paolo paused, puzzled. "The file I read only mentioned her mother and father were dead. It never mentioned neighbors."

"We gave you what you needed to know about her. This is so you can watch out for signs of personality regression. Our conditioning techniques are still being developed."

Jean waved his hand again. "Again, no matter. This is a security issue. They need to be eliminated."

"Wait! You can't kill everyone who knew Dina when she was Alyssa!"

" _Alessia_ , Agent Di Tomaso." Jean shook his head in mock disapproval. "If you can't even keep her past in your head, I don't think you're ready for the field. In fact, I don't think you're ready to be a handler."

Priscilla's statement about his fate crashed into his mind, but it was buried by an even greater fear:  _what will happen to Dina?_  In an oddly detached mindset, he found it quite amusing that his own death meant less to him than Dina's fate. In the same flash of memory and insight, he knew what would happen. She would be brainwashed again and assigned a different handler, a more suitable one. The Dina he knew would be gone.

They would kill her. Not her body, but her mind.  _I can't let that happen._

"I  _am_  ready. Dina and I, we worked hard together, and we work well together. What can I do to change your mind? How can I prove myself? More importantly, how can I prove we're a good team?"  _How can I keep her alive?_

"Well, you could start with eliminating this family. They  _are_  a security issue, you know."

Ξ§§§Ξ

As they sat in Paolo's Audi S5 parked outside the beige walk-up, Dina fiddled with the straps to her bookbag, now worn like a backpack. She looked at Paolo with pleading eyes. "Are you sure we have to?"

Paolo gave a grim nod.

"She's the first friend I made."

"What about the other girls at the Agency?"

"They're nice, but … we didn't become friends. We just met and … we're expected to like each other. It's different."

As he pondered that statement, Paolo realized his was the sort of job that didn't allow for friends. He had coworkers, he had objectives, and he had bystanders, but no friends. He looked at Dina, and tried to think of her as his friend.

She looked back, her eyes softening, perhaps mistaking his contemplation for something more merciful.

_No, she's not a friend. She's a girl, she's a person, but … I can't call her my friend_. With her, Paolo never talked about old times, about battles won or lost, about the future.

He shook his head. The hope in her eyes dimmed, but she nodded.

"Can I… can I ask for one thing, Signore Paolo?"

"I can't promise I'll agree, but I'll try. What is it?"

"Can we … can we make it fast?"

Ξ§§§Ξ

The locks proved themselves cheap and nearly worthless. After he pocketed the picks, Paolo held his Beretta 90-Two in his right hand, taking care to account for the added length of the suppressor. He placed his left hand against the door, now slightly pushed inward, off the latch but still touching the doorframe. Dina held her suppressed 90-Two in both hands, it looking ridiculously outsized for her diminutive frame. Some of the notches in the grip were still visible.

They both closed one eye. In his mind, Paolo counted to thirty. He glanced at Dina.

She nodded.

He mouthed  _three…_

Two…

One…

He eased the door open wide enough for them to enter, but no more. Dina snaked in first, then Paolo.

The room was dark, with only the streetlights stray beams illuminating the ceilings by the two far windows. They closed the eye used to the flickering hallway light and opened the one once closed, but now accustomed to darker environs.

The room was empty.

"It's good to see you again, my friend."

They both spun toward the voice. It was in the bedroom. Paolo thumbed his undermounted tactical light, illuminating a man with a cane in its reddish glow.

"Dina, hold fire."

It was Massimiliano D'Acampo. He was seated on a folding metal chair, and two other empty chairs flanked him. "Come, sit. I'm not armed."

"It's all right, Dina. He's a ... someone I worked with." Paolo took a chair, sat, and unscrewed the suppressor from his pistol.

"Signorina Dina, is it? A wonderful name. Could I ask you to turn on the lights? Over there."

After a quick glance to Paolo for affirmation, Dina walked over to the switch, then back.

During the time she was away, a smiling Massim winked at Paolo. Paolo mouthed "What" in response, but by that time Dina turned around, so the two adults turned away from one another.

Dina sat, her hands neatly folded in her lap, over her pistol.

"She suits you, Paolo. She is careful while you are, well, you're not exactly careless, but you're certainly not as careful as The Captain would like. How is he, by the way?

"How much do you know, Massim?"'

"Enough to hold a conversation, but not enough to worry about being hunted down by a cute little cyborg." He flashed a smile at Dina, who received it, then looked at Paolo with her lips pursed and head tilted.

He mouthed a silent reassurance, then turned back to the arms dealer. "All right. What do you want to talk about?"

"You, Paolo."

"Me?"

"Are you sure this is what you want? It's a dark road that you've started down."

A grim smile crossed his face. "Yes. Yes, it is. If I can't restore my family's honor, then at least I can bring down those who ruined it."

Massim arched an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Nothing further to say. It's personal business. Why do you care?"

Massim smiled back. "I have my reasons. You have your reasons to not share, and I have mine."

Paolo turned his head slightly, to regard the weapons dealer out of the corner of his eye. Dina tensed, but Paolo raised and lowered his hand in a slow and gentle patting motion. She stood down.

"As I said, she suits you. But, be careful. The people you work with are willing to fight evil by overwhelming it with evil."

"We're fighting a group of people who are willing to tear this fine land in two, Massim. I was born here, and I was raised here. There is no North Italy, and there is no South Italy. I don't want the chaos that swallowed up Bosnia to do the same here."

"There are many ways to do it, my friend. You can speak out in the square, or you can become a Senator or a Deputy. Or be a lawyer, then a Judge. Have you ever considered that?"

Paolo nodded. "Once, I wanted to be a lawyer. No more. They don't understand logic, so there's no point in talking to them." He indicated Dina with an open palm. "Her, they will understand."

The arms dealer stood, unsteadily. His silver-tipped ebony cane supported him the entire way. "Well, that's all I have to say. Just think about, my friend."

As one, Paolo and Dina stood. She held the weapon pointed down, but her arm was still, her eyes on the older man. Paolo held up his hand open palm toward the other man. "Wait a minute, Massim. I'm here on a job. It's not one I want to do, but I have to do it. I need to silence the family. Either tell me where they are, or …" He tilted his head at Dina, who smoothly brought the pistol to bear.

Massim didn't blink at the implied consequence. Instead, he flashed a smile at Paolo. "Or, I can assure you that, in a few days, the papers will have a report about a family of seven whose car lost control and fell into a river."

Paolo gaped at that. "You would do that to them?" Then he realized he was planning to do the same thing.

"No, too messy. However, newspapers are very lazy these days. So lazy, all it takes is someone typing something into the Associated Press news computer and..." Massim shrugged with the one hand not holding the cane. "No survivors."

"Why are you … oh, D'Acampo. Are they family?"

"Heavens, no. It's a common enough name."

Paolo motioned for Dina to stand down. "Then why?"

With a sweep of his hand, D'Acampo indicated the empty apartment. "So we could talk. So I could fulfill my obligation. My obligation as a friend. This business does not lend itself to friendships, Paolo. My customers, either they are successful, or they fail. Either way, they rarely return. You and The Captain, and maybe a few others, are the only people I've known over the years."

"Just talk? You're not going to call this a favor owed?"

"If I was counting favors, I'd own your years until you died for all the rush orders and strange requests you've made!" Massimo had a hearty, deep laugh.

Paolo had to smile. "All right. I'll tell them back at the office that someone tipped them off and the family ran. I'll track them to…"

"Where do you want them to, ahem, die?"

"I don't know, L'Aquila?"

"L'Aquila it is. You and Dina, was it? You and Dina head over there, and I'll have the news story ready in three days."

"Why so long?"

"So they don't think you're some super sleuth. That would be a hard reputation to fulfill."

Paolo thought it over and nodded. "Dina? Ready to head east?"

"Yes, Signore Paolo."

Massimo gave polite and appreciative laugh. "What a clear voice. She could be an excellent singer."

"Uh, Signore D'Acampo? That breaks Signore Paolo's Rule Two: Once you draw attention to yourself, you lost your biggest advantage."

Massimo laughed even louder. "Signore Paolo? Is he telling you that? Those are The Captain's rules, all twenty of them."

Paolo blushed. "He's right. Put your gun away, Dina, we're leaving."

As she said, "Yes, Signore Paolo," she unslung her backpack and started unscrewing her suppressor. "Oh, Signore D'Acampo?"

"Yes, Dina?"

She held out a doll. "Can you give this to Maria? She gave me one of her dolls as a swap, and I promised her I would bring her one the next time I saw her."

 


	17. First Mission Chapter 5: Grimoire

**_First Mission_  Chapter 5: Grimoire**

Paolo had just returned from the gym when a shaken Priscilla approached him.

"The note, did you read it? Do you still have it?"

"What note?" He dabbed at his still-damp forehead with a towel draped over his shoulders.

"The one from your mission. The one in the mission report. Do you still have it?" She had her hands pressed together, fingers interlaced in front of her chest. The knuckles were paler than the rest of her already-fair skin.

"Yes, it's in the document pouch at the back of the file-"

Priscilla started to walk away.

"Which is in my room." As soon as he said that, he realized it could be taken the wrong way. The apology was forming on his lips, but too late.

She whirled, eyes blazing.

"Uh, I could bring it to you?" Paolo recalled an earlier time he thought she would be formidable in the right circumstances.  _I was more right than I realized_.

"I'd rather not wait. Let's go."

Ξ§§§Ξ

He opened his drawer, fetched the file, and held out the blank envelope.

Priscilla tore it from his hand, then stared at it. "That's it? How did she know it was from Favianne?"

He ran his finger down the printout of the report he typed up just an hour ago. "It says here this was enclosed in another letter, so the other letter might have said so."

"Do you have that one?"

"No, this is all she gave me."

She gave one last look at the envelope before rapping the contents to one end neatly tearing off the other edge. "I would have expected her name on here."

"Who, Favianne?"

"No, Alessia. This was Favianne's last letter to Alessia, so I'd expect her name on the front."

As she shook the letter out, Paolo slowly placed a hand over hers. "Look, I can see there's something special about this letter, and that you have some sort of relationship with this Favianne person, but Dina is my partner and I think I should know about this."

"What did you say Dina was?"

"My partner. I mean, it's a strange feeling to have a kid be my partner, but that's what she is." He looked at her. "Isn't she?"

Priscilla's countenance softened. "She is. Everyone else around here refers to the girls as 'their cyborgs'. I think you're one of the few who calls them something other than cyborgs."

"Oh? Who else doesn't?"

"Me." She held the letter so it was in the space between them. She held the letter so he could read it with her.

_My dearest darling Alessia,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. This will talk about many things, some that you are too young to understand. Please keep this letter safe, and as you grow older, I'm sure you will understand why I wrote what I wrote._

_Most important - I love you. I always have, and I always will. I want you to be happy, healthy, and, most of all, safe. This is why I chose to do what I did. The same bad people who took Pappy's and your brother's lives will never stop looking for us, and you will never be safe so long as the one person leading them is alive._

_By now, I took a huge risk, and it failed. Don't believe what you hear about me. Please know that whatever I did, it was so that you would be safe, so that we could go back home and not have to pretend to be Lia and Gina Pacelli anymore._

_This was a hard choice to make, but it is the only way to make sure you are safe. I did not want to leave you. I would not leave you if I had any choice. If I was successful, you would not be reading this. Instead, we would be back on the beach in Tuscany like we used to visit every summer. We will be able to live a normal life again, and be safe._

_Please believe me, when Piero and I first saw you and Alessio, we promised to keep you safe. We loved you both with all our hearts, with all our lives. We promised to give you a better life than we had. I am sorry I failed, and hope you someday forgive me._

_I've included your birth certificate. Keep this safe. This will prove that you are Alessia DeAngelis. Continue being Gina Pacelli for as long as you can. Use this birth certificate only if you cannot pretend to be Gina Pacelli any longer. However, once you use this it, leave Italy as soon as you can. This is very important._

_No matter who you are, no matter where you are, always remember that I am so very proud of you. I am proud of you for standing up to those bullies at school, and I am proud to you for getting such good grades. I am proud of you for not crying when Signore Maggiano's dog bit you, and I am proud of you for praying for him to be nicer to his dog. I still have the beautiful card you made for me the last Mother's Day we spent as a family, you, me, Pappy, and Alessio._

_I am sure you are making many friends and studying very hard at Saint Catherine's Academy. I have many happy memories from my time there. I am sure you will as well._

_I wish I could be there for your graduation, to see you in the black-and-green gown. I am sorry to miss that. I am sorry to not be able to see your marriage, to hold your first baby. I am sure you will be able to give your child a better life than I gave you. When she asks about her grandmother, tell her that I look like you. When he asks why I'm not here when all the other children have their nanas around, remind them that I am, so long as you remember me._

_And always, always know in your heart that I love you more than life itself._

_Your Mother, forever_

When they finished, Paolo sat there silently, waiting for Priscilla to speak. The silence oppressed him, and questions roiled within him. Priscilla lowered her hand and her head, slowly, simultaneously. Her breath caught as she inhaled, and was a soft whimper as it escaped her.

Respectfully, Paolo placed a hand on her shoulder.

With seemingly equal grace, she patted the back of his hand, then lifted it off.

He heard a whisper in-between the stifled sobs. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said, 'We killed her.'"

"Who, Alessia's mother?"

She took nearly a minute to regain her composure. "Yes. Twice."

"What do you mean?"

"See here? She says she's still here so long as Alessia remembers her."

Paolo nodded, the weight of her sadness starting to land on him as well. "But when we conditioned her."

"We killed her memory of her mother. We killed Favianne. Twice."

Setting aside his questions so that he could comfort Priscilla, Paolo asked, "But you remember her."

"Yes. She was my  _sorella_  when I went away to school."

"She must have been a very good person."

Priscilla nodded. "She was. She's the reason I joined law enforcement. She's the reason I'm here. And I thought that …" The emotion overcame her. She hunched over, her face in her hands.

"You thought you were helping her by keeping Alessia alive as Dina, right?"

Wordlessly, she nodded.

"You  _are_  keeping Favianne alive, Priscilla. You are. You're doing it by remembering her yourself. What did she write again? That she'll live so long as  _you_ remember her.  _You_  can keep her spirit alive, Priscilla. Will you?"

"Of course." She stood, still unable to make eye contact. Letter in hand, she started to stumble toward the door.

"Uh, I need the letter back. For the file."

She opened the door. "I'll photocopy it for records. That will be good enough."

"Are you going to keep the original?"

"No, I'm going to send it to Favianne."

The door shut.

 


	18. First Mission's Epilogue

**_First Mission's_  Epilogue**

"Signore Paolo? Signore Paolo!"

Paolo placed the half-assembled pistol on his desk and walked to the door. Each time she knocked, it was timid and polite, but the door still resounded heavily.

He opened it. "Yes, Dina?"

She looked up at him, her eyes tense and brow furrowed. "Something's wrong with Signorina Mel… I mean, Signorina Priscilla."

"Come in. What do you mean?"

She waited until he closed to door. "She was crying. She was crying a lot and she left."

Paolo thought back to the letter. "I think she needs some time alone."

"I wanted to help her feel better, but I was in the cafeteria. I ran and I ran, but by the time I got outside, she was already getting into the taxi."

"She has a lot on her mind, these days."

"But she didn't ride her Vespa, Signore Paolo! She would never leave without it. Something's wrong, I just know it!"

He gave her a hug and felt some of her unease seep into him. It  _was_  unlike her to walk off with something like the original letter. The more he thought about it, the more questions came to the fore.  _Killed her twice?_   _And what did she mean by sending the letter to Favianne?_

"All right, but all we can do is wait for her to come back."  _Not that I like that option._  "Unless you heard her tell the cab drive where they were going?"

"No, Signore. But I remember the taxi's license plate and the number painted on it. Would either of those help?"

Paolo gave her a huge hug and reached for his mobile phone.

Ξ§§§Ξ

They arrived at the Marcellina Cemetery fifteen minutes after the dispatcher said her taxi did. Paolo pulled the car into the sparsely-occupied parking lot. The memorial park was equally ill-attended. Priscilla was probably one of three parties visiting graves today, and the only one by herself.

Paolo and Dina approached respectfully, then stopped three rows of markers behind her.

She knelt on the grass between two dark granite markers. A small pile of ashes sat on a plate in front of her. Her head was bowed, but not purely from solemnity. With an uncharacteristic lack of reserve, she drew a sleeve across her eyes.

She was crying. She was kneeling in front of a gravestone, mouthing words lost in the distance. Suddenly, she pounded her thigh and wrapped her arms around the stone angel.

At that sight, Dina gasped.

Paolo felt her step forward and pressed his hand more firmly onto her shoulder to stay that impulse.

_Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe she just needs some time here._

Priscilla must have heard Dina's cry, soft as it sounded to him. Still on her knees, she turned. Her eyes were indeed red, her cheeks crimson. However, she formed a grimace of a smile and opened her trembling arms.

Dina surged forward and hugged her. "Signorina Priscilla!"

Her voice still halting, the older woman buried her face in Dina's hair. She took a deep breath, then withdrew, holding the girl by the shoulders at arm's length. Her eyes blinked away tears, and she saw …

She saw Favianne's eyes looking back at her.

That overwhelmed her. It stole what little self-control she had. Emptied, she drew Dina back into her embrace, taking deep gulps of air.

Dina turned, looked helplessly at Paolo.

With a stricken, pained look, he could hold his hands cupped upwards. He had no more idea what to say, what to do than his youthful partner.

She hugged Priscilla, and the words, "I love you" fell from her mouth.

Priscilla stiffened, and Dina instantly fell against her, reciting "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and again.

Struggling against the unnatural mass leaning against her, Priscilla stayed upright and patted her on her back. "Shh... It's all right, Al-…Dina. It's all right, Dina."

Dina swallowed. "It's all right, Signorina Priscilla. You can call me Alessia, if it makes you feel better."

This shocked Priscilla out of her grief. "What… what did you say, Dina?"

"I said," Dina broke her gaze from her friend and looked at the gravestone. "I said … that you could, uh, call me Alessia. If you want, that is. If it makes you feel better."

With her jaw gaping, Priscilla looked to Paolo for help.

He nodded and pantomimed gentle nudging.

Priscilla noted that the younger girl was still staring at the marker. She gritted her teeth for an instant, steeling herself with a slow and deep breath.

"No, you are Dina. It wouldn't be fair to call you Alessia."

Some tension escaped the younger girl. Not a lot, but some. She kept her eyes on the polished stone. "She's still alive right?"

"Who, honey? Favianne?"

"No, Alessia. I mean, it says she was born about ten years ago, but it's not like, uh, Favianne. There's no second year under her name. That's the year Favianne died, right?"

Priscilla looked at the flow of light brown hair standing in front of her. She struggled with her thoughts. "Yes, dear. Alessia is still alive. She's just…" The older agent bit her lip, committing to the answer. "She's just far away, that's all."

"I think I know why you want to call me Alessia, then."

"Why, Dina?"

"You don't want to be alone when you're here. You miss your friend, and you want somebody else to remember her with you. Is that right?"

"Yes. Yes, dear. You're right."

A soft kiss landed on Priscilla's cheek, followed by an equally light whisper. "You're not alone, Signorina Priscilla. I'm here, and you can call me Alessia if you want."

 


	19. Volume 2 Epilogue

**Volume 2 Epilogue**

The party was well-attended, but subdued. The most of other girls and their handlers put in their obligatory half-hour, save Elsa and her handler Lauro, who were on-mission, and Pia and Ernesto, who left the gaily coloured invitation in his mailslot. "Perhaps he didn't see it," Priscilla whispered to Dina.

_No, he saw it,_  Dina thought. She noted him earlier that week exiting the office supply and mailroom area, intently reading a postcard, brow furrowed, as if it would reveal more with his increased scrutiny. She knew the truth, but let heeded some inner urging to let her friend's words go unchallenged.

Director Lorenzo and his direct staff sent a nicely-worded notecard, ornamented with signatures, some illegible, others that Dina recognized. Some from people she knew, but many she recognized in an abstract and academic way, but didn't know.

The party was subdued. A few cupcakes, some uneasy minutes spent looking at one another while the handlers chatted. After the requisite time passed, many watches were checked, many apologies offered.

Captain Raballo was the last to go. He and Paolo talked in hushed tones, unaware that they were the only handlers left. The captain did most of the talking, and Paolo listened intently, nodding and agreeing when appropriate.

Claes stood dutifully by the few abandoned cupcakes and idle berry-flavoured punch.

"Hi, Claes. I got a new doll from a friend. Well, it's not exactly new, but it's…" Dina's attempt to approach was met with polite acknowledgement, but not even feigned interest.

"I'm sorry. Was I interrupting?"

Claes shook her head minutely, her straight, dark hair swaying as it traveled down. "No more than anyone else. I was merely reviewing what I read earlier today, that's all."

"Wow. You read a lot."

"Yes." Claes turned back to look at her handler, who was done with his sotto voce lecture and walked through the door, face darker than the usual near-frown. Without any attempt to bid a parting, Claes followed.

Dina turned to the corner where once her handler was chastised. Instead, he was helping Priscilla take down the streamers, the sole decoration for the mess hall. As she gathered the fallen paper ribbons, an idea brightened her thoughts.

"Signorina Priscilla? Signore Paolo? Is it all right if I kept some of the streamers?"

Balanced on a chair, Priscilla managed to ask, "Oh, are you going to hang them in your room? That's a great idea!"

Dina shook her head, aware that the adults' attentions were elsewhere. She assisted in the cleanup, earning her a pat on the head from Paolo and a few words of praise from Priscilla.

At the end, she left the dining hall with an armful of purple streamers and a role of cellophane tape.

Ξ§§§Ξ

Once she was alone in her room, she reached into her schoolbag. The Beretta, the suppressor, and the two extra magazines were each snug in their foam-lined pouches. Her hand emerged with an envelope, the one she carefully opened while in the D'Angelo washroom just prior to leaving with Paolo the first time. On the front, in a practical yet scrolling handwriting, it said, "To My Darling Alessia."

She slid this into her pillowcase, beneath the pillow.

One by one, she removed the five dolls from the topmost shelf. They were too top-heavy to stand, but she could seat them upright.

Of the five, one was not of the same set. While the others were larger, rounder, and with a younger-looking face, the doll she received from Maria was slender, with an exaggerated adult's build and face. Dina looked at it, pursing her lips. Though no one else was in the room to see it, she nodded, having come to a decision. She placed the doll aside.

She picked up one doll, then the next. The third one, she selected and sat it on the table. From a sheath hidden on the underside of her book bag, she removed a slim-handled, double-bladed Gerber Mark II fighting knife. With great care, she pulled straight a lock of the doll's curly reddish-orange hair and cut it so only a finger's width remained. Again and again, she did this, until the doll was completely shorn and wore a halo of red.

Of the remaining three, she selected another one and did the same, this time to a doll with dark-brown hair. It too ended up wearing a fuzzy cloud of hair sticking straight out of its plastic skull.

She put the knife back and cleaned up all the stray strands of fake hair as best she could.

The two dolls with haircuts soon lost their dresses. Using the spool of tape and the crinkled paper strips, she fashioned sleeves, trouser legs. The shirt's body was more difficult, but with so judicious tearing, Dina was able to fashion a complete shirt for each doll. Connecting the trouser legs proved more challenging, and in the end, she just used tape to fasten the upper part of the pants to the two dolls.

Satisfied, she sat back, replaced the tape dispenser, cleaned up the scraps. She found an indelible marker and started writing on the backs of the dolls.

_Favianne_

_Alessia_

_Pappy_

_Alessio_

The last doll, the one she received from Maria, she wrote the name

_Priscilla_


End file.
